


Take It On Faith

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Series: survival is insufficient [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Boreth, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Makeup Sex, Mutual Jealousy, Recovery, Respite, Risa - Freeform, Secret Relationship, Supportive Relationships, mojave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-12-24 15:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: It takes them so long to get to Risa that it becomes a joke between the two of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My working title for this was _relationships are haaaard in space_, which pretty much sums the whole thing up in a nutshell.
> 
> I feel like I should mention that this isn't H/C from the big Pike hurt; this is just your garden-variety Starfleet mini-disaster.

It takes them so long to get to Risa that it becomes a joke between the two of them. _There goes Risa again_, the message headers say as yet one more clusterfuck cancels their leave and sends them to opposite sides of the galaxy; or, _It's not Risa, but…_, when they manage to get themselves into the same system even if it's only for a day and one of them has found a place to meet up.

Part of it is that, well, Chris is the captain of a starship and Ash runs Starfleet Intelligence, and it’s a joke trying to align their schedules.

When they finally do get there, it really would have made better sense just to have stayed on Earth, but Chris is nothing if not stubborn and his brain has been latched onto this idea for far too long to let it go just because of practicalities. 

Plus, Chris thinks, laying his head back against the seat in the commercial cruiser, Ash never once tried to talk him out of it, so it's on both their heads. 

"Still awake?" The seats are close enough that Ash's murmur is perfectly clear even with the hum of the warp drive.

Chris lifts his head up. His eyes are gritty and burning, and his head is pounding from the last rounds of debrief that he'd come directly from. He wants to sleep for a good month or so, but that's not really happening, at least not yet. He gestures at the window and the warp signature outside it. 

Ash sighs. "You're going to have to talk to somebody about that at some point."

"Yeah," Chris grunts. "Later. Already had my fill of Fleet doctors."

"You're--"

"Ash." Chris catches his hand. "I'll sleep in-system, on impulse power. The thing with the warp drive and no sleep is just a--thing."

"Kind of a big thing, given what you do for a living." 

Chris shrugs. "I'll deal with it later. Right now, I'm on leave." He laces his fingers through Ash's. "With you."

Ash looks at him steadily; Chris sighs. "I mean that--all of it. I will deal with it; later; I'm on leave now."

"Okay," Ash says.

"Okay," Chris answers. He lays his head back again, only this time he keeps hold of Ash’s hand. It’s not enough to let him sleep, but it’s definitely better than being alone.

* * *

They’d had a little less than 36 hours on Starbase 23, not nearly enough time to pull together a relationship, but, Chris thought, enough to make a firm intention to do just that. Plus, as Chris was fond of telling Ash, he was a starship captain and Ash ran Intelligence, so they were clearly focused high-achievers, and it definitely was enough time to figure out that while Chris liked sex a little on the rough side and Ash didn’t, they could walk a fine line and make it spectacularly good for both of them.

After that, Ash made a point to watch the _Enterprise_'s logs closely enough that he could make an educated guess that they'd be docking in the Beta Quadrant for re-provisioning and brief shore leave, and had gotten himself there on the off-chance that Chris might have some free time. 

Chris did wrangle a little—less than 24 hours, which wasn’t ideal, but Chris wasn’t going to argue that it wasn’t worth every rushed second. Ash didn't like to be held down and didn't like to be the one holding Chris down, but somewhere in there, they stumbled on the variation of Chris just doing what Ash said and they spent almost the entire time they were together with Chris spread out on the bed, taking what Ash gave him. Most of it was a blur, hours and hours of Ash petting him and teasing him, his mouth and hands all over Chris and Chris not doing anything because that was what Ash told him to do. Chris was half out of his head when Ash had finally leaned close to tell Chris he needed to pick whether he wanted to fuck Ash or be fucked and hadn't let him move until he answered.

It took Chris three tries to get the words out, but then all he had to do was follow what Ash said and he'd been up on his hands and knees with Ash pushing into him almost like a time-skip. Ash had fucked him carefully, one deep, slow stroke after another, talking to Chris the whole time, telling him how good he felt and how incredible it was to have him like that, and Chris had let go and let everything wash over him, Ash's hands holding him steady, Ash's voice whispering and murmuring in his ears, Ash's cock moving in him. When Ash finally decided they could come, he'd gotten Chris off with three fast, rough strokes, his nails dragging fire the length of Chris' cock, and Chris barely had the presence of mind to muffle his howl in his own fist.

The second time they managed time together, Chris was the one who'd gotten himself to a briefing that he was sure Ash would be monitoring. The briefing would have been a complete waste of time, except it got them two days. That part of the trip started with Ash sprawled naked on a bed, jerking himself off while Chris watched, waiting to fuck him until he’d come all over himself. Since it got better from there, Chris didn’t care about the useless briefing. 

A few months after that, Ash made another good guess as to where Chris might be. He was right, but Chris hadn't been able to grant leave to the ship's company, and so wasn't taking any himself. That turned out to be okay, though, as they were both in the same system, close enough that communications' lags were negligible, and they could open a video line between their two ships. Somewhat surprisingly, they spent the whole time talking as though they were in the same room, just random conversations as they went about their days. Chris would have bet a fair amount of credit that there would have been some video sex in there somewhere, but it never happened. He was even more surprised that he couldn’t think of any bit of the time they spent together that he would have traded for sex.

The next time after that, they didn’t even make it to a bed. 

Chris gave them a little credit for getting the door closed, but he'd barely heard the lock engage before they were all over each other, Ash solid and strong in his arms. 

Chris was sure that it was only his twenty years of service that got the blasted uniforms off without tearing them anywhere, but when he forced himself to stop long enough grit out, "Bed," Ash only smiled a sharp, almost vicious smile and answered, "Just fuck me, Pike." 

"Ash, wait," Chris started to say, but Ash hissed, "Now, c'mon, I'm good," dragging Chris' hand down so that Chris realized he _was_ good, had gotten himself open and slick. 

"You know you want to." Ash's smile sharpened even more as he reached back to brace himself on the decorative, but otherwise useless table next to the door. Given that provocation, Chris knew they were damn lucky the stupid table didn't shatter under them as Ash let Chris push into him in one hard thrust.

Chris very nearly came from just that, from the slick, hot pressure and the thought of Ash waiting for Chris, prepping himself so Chris could do just exactly what he was doing now. Then he sucked in a long, deep breath and held himself still.

"How long did you think about this?" Chris asked, his voice already betraying the strain it was taking to not just fuck Ash through the wall. "Tell me," he insisted when Ash all but growled at him to _Move, goddamnit, Christopher_. "Please," Chris breathed, pressing in deeper, pushing Ash back further off his feet. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, Chris buried deep and Ash barely balanced and doing his best not to meet Chris' eyes. "Please," Chris repeated.

He wasn't sure exactly where he'd slid from a little bit of talking dirty into what was basically a plea for Ash to trust him, but then, he wasn't exactly sure how any of this had happened either, so he wasn't in completely unfamiliar territory. And he could wait--captains had to be almost as good at waiting out the conversations no one wanted to have as they were at making split-second decisions. 

"All day," Ash finally answered, his voice almost inaudible. "All fucking day." He finally turned his head and looked at Chris, his eyes equal parts defiance and resignation, as though he couldn’t not answer, but knew he'd given up an opening and was trying to brace for the attack. 

Chris was only going to get one chance to get this right, so he took his time and leaned in slowly to catch Ash’s mouth in a long, deep kiss. 

"Then I better get on it," Chris said once he came up for air. He kept his mouth moving, skimming over Ash’s skin, cheekbone to temple and down to his jaw. "Fast or slow, sweetheart?"

"Slow," Ash murmured, tipping his head back so Chris could get to his throat. "So it feels like it's never going to end."

_Too bad that’s not happening,_ Chris couldn’t help thinking, but then shoved the thought back in its Boreth-labeled box at the corner of his conscious mind and did his best to fuck them both to insensibility.

* * *

Chris does manage to nap on the in-system, impulse-driven parts of the trip, so he's not completely out of his head from exhaustion as they finally get to the private, over-water _bure_ they have for the foreseeable future.

The sky is darkening rapidly as they're ushered into the small house, the second sun about to slip under the horizon. Ash hip-checks Chris out onto the lanai to take in the views of the lagoon and the setting sun while he deals with the hovering staff. Chris doesn't argue--he is happy enough to still be standing; it's all for the best that he doesn't have to make any decisions at this point--just takes the hint and lets his momentum carry him up to the railing at the edge of the lanai. He's still standing there, the light breeze perfumed by the tangles of flowers on the deck and back along the shore reminding him with every breath that he is grounded, finally, and against almost all the odds when Ash comes up behind him.

"Please don't fall off this deck," Ash says. "Your crew will hunt me down and tear me to pieces if you drown on my watch now, after everything else."

Chris doesn't answer, but he does lean back and hums wordlessly at how easily Ash moves into him, solid and strong at Chris' back. 

"You're about two steps away from purring," Ash says and Chris can hear the smile in his words. He doesn't move away, though, which is all Chris really cares about.

"I might," Chris answers, leaning back a little more, just because he knows Ash won't let him fall, "be a little touch-starved."

"Yeah," Ash sighs, wrapping one arm around Chris and sliding his hand up under Chris' shirt. Chris would groan at how good it feels, but it all gets caught up in his chest. He lays one of his own hands on top of Ash's and that's even better. "Yeah, me, too," Ash says, his beard silky as he kisses his way up the back of Chris' neck.

The last sliver of the second sun disappears beneath the horizon and the quick tropical night rushes in. If Chris thinks about it, he'll be able to pull up the map for the stars he's seeing now, be able to identify them and find the ones he's visited, but that's going to have to wait for another night.

"C'mon," Ash is saying, turning Chris around and steering them both back inside. Chris half-stumbles as they make it into the bedroom, but Ash is still there and they get to the bed without actually falling. Chris can feel sleep dragging him under almost before he hits the mattress, but Ash is right there next to him, so that's not a problem.

* * *

The _stupid_ part of the delay in actually getting to Risa was the part where they spent almost six months fighting over… Chris wasn't exactly sure what, when it was all said and done. It started because he stuck to not wanting to keep their relationship a secret and Ash couldn't let go of him destroying his career, but it spiraled into a nasty, vicious tangle, where every single time they tried to communicate, whether written or over comms or in person, they ended up more furious than when they started. To be fair, Chris could admit that he wasn't used to having to take a second opinion on his personal life into account and he'd probably been a little (or a lot) dismissive. Ash would probably cop to being stubborn and overly pessimistic, too, but none of that actually got said when it might have done some good.

One transmission ended with Chris snarling that Ash could just find the balls to break it off straight up rather than pushing Chris until he was the one who walked. Ash disconnected another one after laughing, somewhere between incredulous and bitter, that Chris and his martyr complex really didn't leave much room for anyone else in a relationship. 

It came to a head at a Section 31 briefing with half the captains in the Fleet, including Chris, in physical attendance. The briefing itself went fine; Ash was sharp and cool, refusing to engage on anything other than the topic at hand, but also flicking his eyes contemptuously over the lesser veiled insults so that everyone got the point that he’d heard them, but wasn’t expending any energy on them. Even as furious as Chris was with him personally, he couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction and pride every time it happened.

It was after the briefing when everything fell apart. Chris maneuvered it so that he was the last one in the room--everyone knew he and Ash had a history from the supposed loss of _Discovery_\--and when Ash jerked his head toward the ready room he used as his command center, Chris followed silently behind him. 

"You handled that well," Chris said. It came out stiff, almost impersonal, nothing like how he meant it, that Ash was doing a thankless job set forth by politicians jockeying for power and doing it so well they couldn't even see how he was side-stepping their manipulations. For a split-second, he thought he saw a flicker of something like gratification in Ash's eyes, but then it disappeared and Ash was saying shortly, "Yeah, it's amazing how I can actually do the job I've been doing for years."

Chris ground his teeth together. "I didn't mean--"

"No, you never do." Ash's jaw looked as tight as Chris' felt. "I'm guessing the condescension comes standard with the captain's bars?"

Somehow, Chris managed to bite back the snarling answer that would do nothing but inflame the situation further, saying instead, "Why did you ask me back here?"

Ash muttered something in Klingon, which infuriated Chris entirely more than it should have, and he found himself stalking across the room. "Did you have something to say, Commander?"

Ash looked him up and down, and if it wasn't quite with the contempt he'd shown in the meeting, it was close. "No, Captain, I don't."

It hit Chris with a visceral intensity that it had been months since he'd been in the same room with Ash, and not just in the same room, but close enough to see the scrapes on his knuckles and a small, mostly-healed cut high on his cheekbone and know that he didn't have any idea how Ash had gotten them. That, the _waste_, time he didn’t have, sent a fresh surge of anger through him--mostly directed at himself for not having fixed this stupid fight, but there was enough overflow to catch Ash and the entire aggravating situation in the backwash. 

"Ash," Chris said, his voice still harsh from all that free-flowing anger. He swallowed hard and tried again. "Ash, I--"

"One way or the other, Pike," Ash said, short and distant. "Either I'm the junior officer you need to groom up or I'm the toy you pick up when there's nothing else better on offer."

_False dichotomy_, one very distant, faint part of Chris' brain was saying while the rest of him had gone incandescent with fury that Ash could only see those extremes (and, if he was being honest, that his own behavior was supporting them.) 

"Well?" Ash taunted. "It’s not like you not to know the right answer, Captain."

"Toy," Chris snarled. "Fuck knows I don't need another junior officer hanging around."

"What a surprise," Ash all but sneered. His hands were at his shoulders, working at the buttons on his tunic, but he hadn't quite finished with them before Chris got to him and the last few went spinning off to scatter across the room as Chris yanked the tunic up and over Ash's head. He got one hand into the hair at the back of Ash's head, twisted his fingers tight to hold him steady so Chris could bite down his jaw and over to his mouth. Ash met him bite-for-bite there and backed them the last few steps to the desk, getting one hip on it so he was braced and scrubbing the heel of his hand hard down Chris' already hardening cock.

Chris hissed at the sudden pressure, his hips stuttering forward as he pressed closer, his thigh between Ash's, but then Ash had Chris' pants open and his hands on Chris' cock, slapping it back and forth hard enough that Chris nearly howled, but he was never going to be sure if it was from how much it hurt or how good it felt. Ash's mouth was twisted into a bitter smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing to Chris; Chris tightened his fingers in Ash's hair and yanked his head back so he didn't have to see it. Ash only laughed and switched to raking his nails across the head of Chris' cock and that time, Chris did yell, but since he muffled it in a bite to where Ash's neck curved into his shoulder, it didn't really matter.

Ash knew exactly how to push his buttons, but Chris could do the same, pushing him down on the desk, both of Ash's wrists caught in one of Chris' hands so he couldn't reach his cock as Chris fucked him deliberately, stopping whenever Ash got close and holding back his own climax with a furious concentration that, when it broke, left him half-blind with want. 

That one part of Chris brain reminded him that Ash really didn't like it rough, but Chris did and he was too far gone to stop and try to figure out why Ash was deliberately goading him, at least not until he was back on board the _Enterprise_, staring bleakly at himself in the mirror.


	2. Chapter 2

Even just the one Risian sun is more light than Chris has dealt with in nearly a year; by the time the second one rises, his circadian cycle is well and truly fired and there’s no sense laying around in the bed, especially since Ash isn’t there. The chrono is set to Risian time, which doesn't really help Chris, but he decides he'll just treat it as still early morning, and not look for clothes other than the light sleep pants he's wearing. He wanders out into the main room, with its open, wide doors out to the lanai and the small kitchen area tucked along the wall that faces back over the mountains that come right down to the water, the trees and vines and leaves more blue than the greens of Earth, but still alive and lush, especially after so many months in the black. 

The _bure_'s second bedroom is little more than an alcove, but it has a door that closes and the translucent panels that make up the walls are darkened. Chris assumes Ash has thrown an electronic field over the area, enough that he can take comms without worrying about anyone picking up the transmissions. Chris is perfectly aware that he's sprung this trip on Ash with barely any notice, and just because he’s on extended, compensatory, post-incident leave (a.k.a., please just go away while we figure out what to do about the latest FUBAR situation you've dumped on us) doesn’t mean Ash can just drop everything, too. Chris is amazed they’re finally here at all; whatever Ash has to deal with is fine by Chris.

"Hey," Ash says, sliding open the panel that serves as a door. Chris gets a glimpse of enough electronic equipment to confirm his surmise that this is going to be Ash's command center. "I didn’t think you'd be awake for another couple of hours."

"No guarantees how long I'll be vertical." Chris leans against the counter and watches Ash cross the room, stripping off his uniform tunic as he goes, giving Chris a nice, tantalizing glimpse of skin layered over long, lean muscles as he pulls on a loose-woven shirt. Chris tries not to think about what he looks like himself now that he's twenty kilos down, but it can't be all that good. He probably should have found a shirt somewhere. _Still_, he thinks, _happy to be here at all._

"We should probably get some food into you, then," Ash says, dropping a kiss onto Chris' hair as he walks by and into the kitchen area. Chris still hasn't quite adjusted to this easy affection Ash has been dispensing since Chris has been cut loose from the official debriefings, so it takes him a little longer than it ordinarily would to notice the bowls of beige … glop, for lack of a better word, that Ash is setting out.

"Well," Chris grumbles, "doesn't this look appetizing."

Ash snorts and hands Chris a spoon. "Dr. Boyce was very specific in his recommendations."

"He always is," Chris sighs. Since Ash is metaphorically sitting between him and Phil, and Chris knows Phil has zero shame about dumping guilt on people to get them to do as he deems best, he decides not to argue and takes a bite. It doesn't actually taste _bad_\--more like it doesn't taste like anything at all, so he sighs again and eats a little more.

"If you get that down," Ash says, tipping his own bowl back and swallowing its contents all at once--Chris is mildly impressed he can do it without gagging or shuddering--"there's a local fruit we can try out." He lays a knobby, yellowish-greenish, more-or-less round piece on the cutting board. "It's not supposed to be too sweet or tart--"

"Bland fruit, too," Chris mutters. "Very exciting."

Ash doesn't say anything, but his silence is telling. Chris shakes himself out of his petty little funk. "Ignore me," he says. "I'm--"

"Recovering," Ash supplies. 

"That's a lot more credit than I deserve," Chris tells him. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know it’s boring, and you have to be sick of having to deal with it, but I don’t want to risk anything."

"You're right," Chris says, finishing the last few spoonfuls. Ash collects both bowls and turns to rinse them out. "But there's no need for you to suffer through it, too."

Ash shrugs. "I've, uh, pretty much been living on protein cubes, so this whole easing-back-into-actual-food plan isn't the worst idea." He smiles over his shoulder. "I'm not exactly sure where my taste buds are these days."

"Apparently, we're a pair," Chris says. He's hoping his smile is tilting toward rueful rather than bitter; Ash smiles back, so maybe he's gotten it right.

He drinks two of the large bottles of (he-doesn't-want-to-think-how-expensive) Sol III water (also a Phil Boyce recommendation/order), but point-blank refuses to go back to bed. He does let Ash settle him on the shaded, oversized lounge on the lanai, but only because Ash lies down with him and carefully peels and slices slivers of the bland little fruit.

It's the best thing Chris has tasted in ten standard months even before he takes into account that it's Ash who's feeding him.

* * *

Chris had taken to running the halls of the _Enterprise_ with what must have been a murderous expression on his face, because Phil reported that personal fitness accountability had been skyrocketing, due, he theorized, to how Chris' actions were taken as a nonverbal warning and example to the crew. It hadn't really helped Chris, but he supposed making Phil happy about the overall health of the crew had a tiny bit of good in what was looking to be one of the premiere fuck-ups of his life.

Phil had watched him ease himself in and out of various rooms for two days before he'd cornered Chris and ordered him to med bay. Chris thought he'd been waiting for that, because he'd only put up the most token of objections. Phil had checked him out, given him the green light to stay on duty, and had offered regen for the worst of the bruises. Chris had shaken him off, grimly determined not to erase the evidence of his failure to keep something he wanted desperately from cracking and shattering at his own hands.

Phil hadn't stopped Chris from going back to Alpha shift, though he did enforce regulations requiring at least eight hours off duty for all personnel, which at least stopped Chris from working triples on the bridge. It also meant he was in his quarters when the one word message--_pax_\--had pinged through on his PADD. It came from a blanked out account, but it could only be from one person. Chris stared at it, and somehow found the determination to clear all the doubts and fears and recriminations from his brain. Without all the toxic mess, he had one sharp plan and path outlined. He messaged back _semper_ and added a list of times and frequencies he'd booked for the fastest, highest-quality videoing channels over the next few days. 

He'd been in the mess (and fortunately sitting down, because just keeping his face impassive through the overwhelming wave of relief took enough will power that he wasn't sure how steady he'd have been) when the confirmation from the channel pinged through an hour later.

* * *

The lounge on the lanai turns out to be the one spot they practically live in. Chris still gets chilled easily, so he can spend hours baking in the warmth from the suns while the shade screens keep his skin from burning. The view across the lagoon to the mountains on the other side changes minute by minute as the clouds swirl around the peak and the tide covers and exposes the shallow sand break. In the night, the sand glows with the phosphorescent creatures that live in the water. After seeing only the single view of the stars for all those months, Chris can--and does--watch the shifting panoramas endlessly.

There's a fresh-water plunge pool on the deck, its water warmed by the sun. Chris can sit it in for at least a few minutes when he needs a break from just the air. Ash takes to diving off the railing into the lagoon proper, which is not something Chris is going to tire of watching any time soon, especially not when it comes with the return trip, too, Ash climbing hand-over-hand back up the railing, because apparently ladders are no fun. 

Or it's possibly that Chris is appreciative of the show, and Ash appreciates the appreciation. Either way, Chris isn't complaining.

Even when one of the many quick, tropical squalls sweeps in, Chris stays out to hear the rain hitting the surface of the lagoon and track how the air smells different during each stage. Ash is less inclined to let himself be rained on, but once or twice he's stayed and they've ended up kissing lazily while the water pelts down on them.

It's in one of those squalls, when the rain has wrapped them up in their own private cocoon, just the two of them and the silvery curtain surrounding them, that Chris hears himself asking, "Why did you message me then?"

He doesn't have to be any more specific; Ash knows exactly what he's talking about, Chris can see it in his eyes. He's lying over Chris, legs bracketed by Chris', forearms braced on either side of Chris' shoulders, as much sheltering Chris from the rain as kissing him. 

"It wasn't that big--"

Chris reaches up with both hands to smooth the dark, soaked hair back and cradle his face. 

"I could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror, much less think of what I needed to say to you. It would have taken me months to kick myself out of that rut. It wasn’t nothing."

Ash is silent for longer than Chris expects, but it's the kind of quiet he thinks they should have been looking for all along, so it's an easier wait than he would have predicted.

"I," Ash finally sighs. "I did a lot of thinking, and you'd figured out a lot of...things about me, things that made my skin crawl, stuff that walked right up to that line, a lot of things I'd been shrugging off for a while, not just stuff we'd talked about--" 

They were--_are_\--basic things, Chris thinks. Things that were entirely consistent with Ash Tyler's history with the Klingons. They hadn't been difficult to see, and certainly not anything Chris thought he deserved any special credit for, but Ash was still talking and he didn't want to interrupt.

"Michael and I, even before it fell apart, we were taking things slow--"

"Which we emphatically were not," Chris sighs. There are a lot of things he should have been dealing with here, and all he can do now is to resolve to pay better damn attention.

"No, but it was a rush," Ash says. "The two of us, we were--I don't know, you getting that close that fast, it was a ride. All I meant was that you were the first person that had been close since the whole thing with Voq and L'Rell and… everything."

'Everything' covers quite a lot, Chris is sure, but he only nods and lets Ash pick things up again when he's ready.

"Yeah, so you knew all that, and you were, you'd been furious with me, I know--"

"I was deflecting a fair amount of that from myself," Chris says. "Just so you know."

Ash's mouth twists up in a half-smile. "Let's go with how there was a lot of anger in play." Chris gives him the other half of the smile in agreement, and Ash continues, "but you never took advantage of what you knew would, y'know, really fuck me up."

It takes Chris a long time to breathe through all the implications there, especially the howling, furious need to find out who Ash might be talking about and make sure they _pay_. He shoves all of that into a back corner of his mind, swearing that he _will_ deal with it as soon as he can. It takes time, but Ash waits it out, until Chris can look at him again with some semblance of calm.

"Even if we were through," Ash says, "I didn't want," he hesitates, "that, to be the last time I said anything to you." He leans down and rests his forehead against Chris’. "I didn't end things well with Michael; it took a long time to get the chance to fix that and I didn't want to repeat the mistake. I really wasn't expecting anything more."

Chris slides his hands carefully through Ash's hair and then down his neck to his back, a long, smooth stroke that he breathes out through.

"I like to think I'd have gotten my head out of my ass sooner or later, but I'm awfully glad you made it sooner."

* * *

The video connection had been good enough that Chris could see how Ash's eyes looked sunken and deep-set and the downward cast to his mouth. Chris supposed that evened him out with Chris' own dark circles and what Una had taken to calling his murder face. He hated it, all of it. It wasn't at all how he wanted things between them to go.

They sat and stared at each other for long enough that Chris wasn't sure they were going to be able to break the silence, so he kicked himself far enough out of his own cycle of inaction layered over self-loathing to say, "I'm sorry."

Ash took a breath that sounded like a sigh, but his voice was steady when he answered, "It took both of us to make this mess, so yeah, me, too."

It was already easier to breathe, but Chris warned himself not to just take the easy route here. He wanted this more than he'd known until it fell apart in front of him; now was not the time to be less than honest with Ash--or himself.

"I know I've been pushing too hard to make our--relationship public," Chris said, diving right in on the theory of eating the frog first. "I didn't want you to feel like you were my dirty little secret."

"I'd rather be that than not have you at all."

It was, Chris thought, a perfect summation of their personalities and left him not at all sure where to go next. He finally went with the blunt truth, since that was what he did best.

"But you're not, and you wouldn't." The delay in the signal relays meant that he could see Ash hear his words. "What's left of my career isn't worth you not being able to know that without a doubt." Chris paused, and then added, "And no, I never did buy into discretion being the better part of valor."

"A lot of people have been hurt because of who--_what_\--I am," Ash says. "I didn't have a choice about that, but I do have one here and I--it's a risk." 

"One that I'm okay taking," Chris said.

"I'm not." Ash shook his head slowly. "I--can't."

It sounded ominously final to Chris, and maybe to Ash, too, because he filled the silence with hurried explanations. "I should have been saying that all along, but I--I don't know, I guess I just figured it out myself; I'm sorry."

"Don't," Chris said, sighing. "Figuring things out is more than I've done." 

"What you said about me, though, about not having the guts to end things myself…" Ash shrugged, with a bitter twist to his mouth. "I mean, you weren't far off. There was this constant refrain in my head, asking me who I thought I was to throw this, us, away."

"But if I did it, it was okay?"

"Yeah," Ash said. "Seriously, who would blame you?"

"Ash," Chris said.

"Seriously."

"I would," Chris said quietly. "I do now."

"You shouldn't." 

"I hate the hiding," Chris said, again with the blunt honesty, which was definitely something he should have been working with all along. "I hate that it plays into the games that are going to be the downfall of the Federation. It feels like conceding to them, you know? But I haven't thought past that, and I'm sorry. I should have, should have looked at this from a different angle. I'm supposed to be able to do that, but I didn't here."

"It's okay," Ash said. "You're--you. Through and through. It's--I like that about you, but it lights up--the shadows. Me." 

"No," Chris said immediately. "There is--You could have done nothing after Voq, let him take everything, but you didn't. You _didn't_. You told me that on the _Discovery_, that you found a way to serve with Section 31."

"I needed to do something," Ash said very, very quietly.

"You did that," Chris answered with as much assurance as he could bring to bear. "You did more than just something."

Ash nodded slowly, but Chris thought some of the tension around his eyes had eased. 

"It feels like a start," Ash said. "But there's a long way to go."

"I don't pretend to know what you're feeling, " Chris chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, "and I don't think there's a way I can say this without sounding as condescending as you pointed out, but from where I'm sitting, you're building it up solid." Ash scrubbed his hands through his hair, and Chris added, "If you'll have me, I want to be a part of that."

The comms delay, even with the fastest, highest tech relays available, was almost unbearable.

"I told you I wanted everything," Ash said, rubbing his hand across his mouth.

"Even the shitty parts?" Chris made himself say. "Because god knows I try, but I'm not--I'm not--"

The time-crystal's future choked him long enough that Ash answered, "Perfect? Welcome to reality, Christopher." 

That wasn't what Chris needed to say, but he was coward enough to let it play out like it was. _Later_, he promised himself. _Not over comms_. The next time they were together, he'd tell Ash about Boreth and the future and be done with it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note on the rain--yes, Risa's climate is artificially controlled, but having that little bit of contrast makes the sunny days even more enjoyable. Plus: 2 suns==quadruple rainbow potential if it rains, \o/ (which I didn't end up using, but please feel free to accessorize as needed. :D )
> 
> Also, _pax_ is Latin for peace and _semper_ is always.


	3. Chapter 3

Swimming has never been Chris' preferred form of physical activity. Riding still takes the top prize even if he only gets to do it once or twice a year when he's dirtside somewhere with horses. Running is the easiest to keep up with on a ship, and with the addition of strength and core exercises, it's enough to keep him in shape on a day-to-day basis. Now, with a lagoon that feels like his own private property for all that he ever sees any of the other guests of the resort, he spends hours in the water, floating when he's tired, but more and more, swimming hard, pushing his body to recover from the long months of malnutrition and stress. It helps that Ash could seemingly live in the water, so that Chris always has someone to match himself against, to work and play with--and on occasion, to make sure he doesn't drown when he pushes himself too hard. 

"You're really fucking stubborn," Ash says when they're finally into the shallows and Chris would have to work hard to drown. He at least sounds a little out of breath, which is a small salve against how hard Chris' heart is pounding and the long, shuddering breaths he's gulping in.

"I know this isn't any kind of a surprise to you," Chris manages to pant out.

"No, but I'd figured you were doing it to mess with everyone else around you," Ash says. He's rolled over onto his back, arm thrown up to shade his eyes from the suns, still half in the water, just far enough out that the little waves of the lagoon only roll up to his chest. Chris thinks about joining him but decides moving is a little out of reach at the moment and stays where he's been sitting, where Ash had more-or-less dropped him. Ash reaches out and drops a hand on Chris' thigh. "I guess it's good to know it goes deep enough to fuck yourself over, not just screw with my head."

Chris chokes out a laugh. "Sweetheart, if you only knew…" He puts his hand over Ash's. "Thanks for not throttling me out there." 

"You can chalk it up to me not wanting to dodge your crew for the rest of my life," Ash says.

"If you'd told Phil I was arguing with you in ten meters of water, insisting that I was fine while I could barely keep from going under, he'd have called everyone off. Probably bought you a drink, too."

"Also good to know," Ash says. His hand tightens on Chris' thigh, just for a second, but then he's rolling to his feet and hauling Chris up, too. "C'mon, I'm done with the water for today, and if you think I'm leaving you and your stubborn streak anywhere near this shore, I'm dragging you in for a hypoxia screen."

"Even I know when to quit," Chris says, not quite laughing.

"No, you don't." Ash stops suddenly, turns around and catches Chris' face in his hands. His kiss is fierce and hard and _alive_ and Chris returns it with everything he's got. "You think I don't know how few other captains would have brought everyone back from that clusterfuck?" He kisses Chris again, more carefully this time, but no less intense. "It's the only reason you're here, I get it." He presses kisses to Chris' forehead and eyes, and back to his mouth.

Chris lets himself lean on Ash's strength, just for a second or two, but then he straightens up. "It was luck in the end," he tells Ash, because it _was_. No one could tell him the plan was going to work, not for sure. He’d had to pick which way everyone potentially died, and he'd gotten lucky this time, but one day his luck is going to run out. He knows it and he's sure Ash knows it, too.

"Maybe," Ash says, not letting Chris move away, keeping him close enough to touch. Chris is incredibly glad about that. "But you only got to that point because_you_ keep going, no matter what. And you stacked the odds as much as you could, which I am very grateful for."

Chris initiates the kiss this time, and he takes his time, holds Ash close and tastes his fill. 

"I'm grateful for it, too," Chris finally murmurs. "And I'm grateful you're here now, playing nursemaid and putting up with less admirable effects of my stubbornness."

"I probably needed this almost as much as you did," Ash says. "My XO didn't quite pack my bags, but it was close."

"I actually think I stunned Number One into silence when I said I was taking leave, but this…" Chris lets go of Ash only long enough to gesture back up to the _bure_. "...all of this, hunting it down, getting all the arrangements made…" He leans back into Ash. "It was the only thing that kept me sane during the debriefs."

"They were long," Ash sighs. "Part of that was my fault. You should have taken med--"

"No." Chris shook his head. "They needed to be long--that is not happening again, not if I can help it, and everything I knew, you needed--Section 31--needed to know. Taking medical leave in the middle was just going to drag things out even more."

Chris turns and starts back on the walk to the _bure_, Ash falling into step with him. "The critical part is done and the Admiralty does not want to see my face for the foreseeable future, so I'm good." He smiles at Ash. "I'm here. You're here. We have actual food in our future, Phil swears."

Ash laughs, but later that night, when they're both nearly asleep, he lays his arm across Chris and murmurs, "Too damn close, Christopher." 

Chris tugs him closer and mumbles, "Not getting rid of me so easily, sweetheart."

* * *

It wasn't the first time Chris had called for damage reports while he'd been picking himself up off the deck, but since he'd counted three unexpected drops and jumps to warp speed, with the first drop having landed them in a nebula--well, he wasn't expecting _anything_ good. He was actually grateful they even had power after how thoroughly the electrical charges had fried the systems, but they couldn't fix what they didn't know needed fixing, so he got everyone going.

"Warp and impulse engines down, Captain." 

"I’ve got nothing for either sub-space and internal communications, sir."

"Captain, I'm reading hundreds of micro-fractures in the hull. I can't--I can't verify hull integrity, sir."

"Life support is showing at under ten percent across the board." Nicola spun around. "That can't be right, sir, but that's all I'm getting."

"Anybody have any good news for me?" Chris asked, helping Yeoman Colt to her feet and making sure she was steady. She was still a little wide-eyed, but her nod was firm, so he let go of her arm and turned to look at the completely unfamiliar star field on the front view screen. 

"Well, we haven’t hit anything," Una said from the helm, where she had apparently weathered the entire ride with not so much as a hair out of place. "Yet."

"Always good to hear from you, Number One," Chris answered dryly, but he threw a quick nod at her, grateful that she’d once again supplied the most important thing in the moment, this time a much-needed break in the rising nervous tension. If the Old Man and Number One were snarking at each other, things weren't entirely lost; Chris could almost feel everyone taking a deep breath and leveling out a bit, and he moved quickly to capitalize on that little bit of calm.

"Initiate Containment Protocol," Chris called, his brain ticking down the lists and processes that had been a part of his training for longer than he could remember. "Stand-by with emergency bulkheads." 

The bridge looked intact, but there was no telling what was going on on the other decks. 

"Mann, I need ship-wide communications even if you can only give me a voice-to-voice relay or old Morse code on the bulkheads." 

He made a slow turn, hands on his hips, as he thought. 

"Spock, Amin, work the charts, see if you can at least make a guess where we are. Ops, let's start taking stock of assets. Helm, keep us as steady and even as you can; we may need to EVA some of those micro-fractures. Also," he flashed a smile at Una, "I'd appreciate it if we continued to not hit anything." 

"Your wish, my command," Una cracked back. "Fill in the blanks."

No one actually laughed, but there was a breath of amusement that swept over the bridge, so Chris counted it as good enough. "Security, with me. Number One, you have the conn."

Una managed a crisp salute even as her hands flew over the helm controls, adjusting their position minutely. The rest of the bridge settled into that particular state of controlled chaos that signalled a full-scale alert situation in progress, urgent, crisp, but not panicked. Una would keep them focused, and Chris could go see what the hell was going on with his ship. 

He and his Security team were halfway to Engineering when one of the Communications ensigns caught up with them, a hastily-rigged-together communicator in her hand. It at least let him talk in relays back to the bridge, but if they couldn't sort out life-support, the rest was moot. 

It took three days to validate hull integrity and life-support systems throughout the ship. Chris dozed for an hour here and there in the ready room, but took the call every time Engineering reported that they'd confirmed a new section safe. By some miracle, they hadn't lost anyone yet and Chris was damn well doing his best to make sure that stuck.

By the end of the first day, Phil had Colt shadowing Chris' every step, with strict orders to contact Phil if Chris' liquid intake fell below the (frankly ridiculous, in Chris' opinion) number of milliliters of water per hour Phil deemed necessary to hold off dehydration. 

("Because I don't need the officer--" Chris knew he really meant 'idiot'; there must have been impressionable ears around-- "running the operation to get us out of this blasted mess to be making decisions with a misfiring brain," Phil had growled over Chris' objections. "Give the kid a break and drink what she gives you, because if I have to leave the people who actually need me to make you behave, I will hit you with a hypo so fast you won't know which way is up." 

Chris gave her a break. Two breaks, even, because she kept shoving protein cubes at him and he ate those obediently, without even a threat from Phil.) 

Una matched him minute for minute at the conn, up until the last shift, when they could see full certification coming, and he sent her off for as much sleep as she could get, so that he could crash out as soon as the ship was cleared.

After that, they traded off shifts, twelve hours on/twelve hours off, so that one of them was always on the bridge. Chris missed having her at the helm every day, missed her sharp good sense and unwillingness to put up with shit from anyone, including him, but the two of them were in accord that the ship had one or the other of them in the chair at all times. 

The good news was that they'd been fully provisioned before the incident; they had hydration and replicator base for at least six months. The bad news was that Engineering had no idea what had gone wrong with the warp drives and no idea how--or even _if_\--they could fix it. In continuing bad news, they were nowhere near any kind of exo-planet that they could reach on impulse power, which basically meant they were on their own. 

In an effort to stretch supplies as long as possible, Chris put an order in locking down the replicators to only the most nutrient-dense options, groaningly known as sludge. He also had rations cut by five percent immediately; he could cut it further later, if necessary, but even that little bit would buy them an extra few weeks. When Una didn't even mock-bitch in private over missing her fiery condiments, Chris knew he wasn't overreacting and they really were screwed.

* * *

The cloudy, hazy mornings quickly become Chris' favorites. The mist burns off quickly enough, especially once the second sun rises, but that little bit of extra cocooning, soft light is enough to keep them in bed for the start of the day. It's usually cooler on those mornings, too, and they stay wrapped around each other even after they're both awake. It's not all that much of a surprise that the first time they have sex is on one of those mornings. Chris thinks they both have been moving slowly partly because they're both still exhausted and ground down by the last year, but also because for everything that's happened, the last time they'd actually had sex had been while they were still furious with each other. He knows he's not eager to bring any of that energy here with them now, and he's fairly sure Ash is on the same page.

Chris thinks about it a lot, and finally decides that he can put the idea out there, as neutrally as he can, and let Ash decide whether to move forward. Of course, it doesn't actually work out like that, as 'putting the idea out there' turns out to mean a half-awake Chris rolling over and pressing close to Ash on one of the cloudy, gray mornings, murmuring, "You feel so good, sweetheart," before jolting awake and scrambling to say, "Whatever you want; I'm good with this, I'll be good with more."

"Christopher," Ash groans. His eyes are still heavy with sleep--and Chris hopes, a fair amount of lust. Chris strokes one hand through Ash's hair, wild from sleep and the constant breeze and the humidity of the shoreline, and is about to groan himself, when Ash adds, "Are you--you're sure you're good with--sure you're ready?" and Chris' lazy, half-turned-on mood evaporates.

"I'm not a fucking invalid; I just--"

"Spent nine months on, what, half-rations?" Ash says, awake now, and more-or-less ignoring the desire Chris can see in the wide, dark pupils looking back at him. "Not to mention the psychological stress of holding all that together."

"We only got down to fifty percent for the last few days" Chris growls, "and it's been a month, counting the debriefs. I have followed Phil's damned food restrictions and all the Psych recommendations. I've swum and read and pretended the Federation doesn't exist, and I would now like to have sex with my part--with you." He stops and takes a deliberate, slow breath, and adds, "If you're good with it, too." 

Ash half-laughs, and Chris has to admit that last part came out particularly ungraciously. He sighs. "I actually do mean that."

"I'm not the one who was marooned--"

"No," Chris says quietly. "But you were the one left behind, and the one who, I think the quote I heard was, 'took a bat’leth to the Admiralty.'"

"It was sabotage," Ash says, his voice perfectly level and flat, but Chris is right there: he can see the fury in his eyes. "And we, 31, we knew it was coming somewhere; we reported it through proper channels; and--" He stops for a few seconds, and when he comes back, Chris knows he's hearing echoes of Voq and Qo’onos. "I only took down the part of the Admiralty that discounted the reports and refused to order precautions."

Chris thinks about the swathe of early retirements that had greeted the _Enterprise_'s return, not to mention the only two seated admirals dishonorably discharged for criminal negligence in a century, and deliberately keeps himself from smiling. He thinks the bat'leth metaphor is very appropriate.

"I’d have done it even if it hadn’t been the _Enterprise_ we lost," Ash says. "But I probably wouldn't have gotten quite as much satisfaction at the courts martial verdicts."

Chris really can’t do anything but lean in and kiss him after that. Ash kisses him back and doesn't let him go, which Chris is taking as an agreement on him continuing on. They've been very tactile this whole trip, lots of touches and small kisses, always sitting close, sleeping in the same bed, but it's still almost an electric shock when they get rid of the few clothes they're wearing and press together, skin to skin. 

Chris groans at the first slide of his cock against Ash's, both of them half-hard even before they touch. Chris wants _more_, wants it now, but Ash is rocking into him with a slow, steady rhythm that leaves Chris light-headed even before Ash strokes his hand down Chris' back and presses them even closer.

"This isn't going to be fancy," Chris warns breathlessly.

"Really not what I'm thinking about right now," Ash growls, wrapping one long leg around Chris' hips and grinding down into him.

"Well," Chris somehow manages to say, "when you put it like that--"

As advertised, it's not the most elaborate or sophisticated of encounters, but neither one of them lasts more than a few minutes and when they're done, the shower is right there and big enough that they barely have to step away from each other to clean up and then stumble right back into bed. 

"So," Chris murmurs. "That went… reasonably well."

"Practice," Ash mumbles. "'S what partners do, right?"

"It is," Chris says, with more satisfaction than he's felt in a long, long time. He should have known that slip of his hadn't gone unnoticed; they're definitely going to have to talk that through more, but for now, just hearing it is enough.

* * *

Spock took point on the astronomical analyses, working with Amin through one system after another in an attempt to figure out where they might be. Chris had his command crew split out, each of them leading teams to try to fix the communications systems, fabricate replacement parts, step up efficiencies in the life support systems, and a dozen other high-priority items that they needed if they were going to survive being marooned outside known space in a ship that was barely limping along.

Chris woke up every morning reminding himself of every lesson he'd ever learned on leadership, both in the classroom and on the bridge, especially the ones that said he couldn't do it himself, the ones that told him to set up his best people, point them at the problem, and then get the hell out of their way. Once he'd re-internalized that mantra one more time, he got the day started, listening and encouraging and making priority calls when needed, overall driving the project, but otherwise doing his best not to kill his crew by letting his ego try to run everything.

What he did do was, as Number One was fond of saying, take on the role of Chief Morale Officer. 

He made a point of being seen in the fitness center, to encourage the fitness regimens Phil was grumbling about. He recorded video updates that were available to everyone, crew and civilian, at least weekly, but sometimes twice or three times in a week. He took every off-duty meal in the mess and maintained an open-table policy, inviting anyone to join him. It took a little time, but once word got out that he was serious, the waiting list went on for weeks. He played uncountable numbers of games of poker, Tri-D chess, and Go; admired holos of families from before they'd been lost; and offered advice on which of the continuing education modules housed on the ship's computers might work best for the requesting individual. When one of Phil's teams put together a series of talent shows as a way to encourage people to meet outside of their professional silos, he declined to participate (which was firmly for the best), but attended as many of the preliminaries as possible and ended up allowing himself to be persuaded to host the finals.

He did everything he could think of to keep his people going, gave as much of himself as he could, and then, every night, he went back to his quarters and dictated into his personal log what were essentially one-sided letters to Ash. His captain's logs were crisp, organized, and detailed, but for his personal logs, he just talked.

The first nights were full of their situation, his brain not able to let go of options and possibilities, but then, after the first month, he found himself shifting to more personal topics. He walked through everything he wanted to do with the land in Mojave and took a detour into growing up there. He spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time reminiscing about his first time on a starship, his first cruise as an ensign, the first time he'd put on the captain's stripes and ordered the _Enterprise_ out of space dock. 

After the first few months, he started edging around to the events on Talos IV. It took him two weeks to work up to Vina, but once he'd done that, it was somehow easier to talk about how long it took to shake the projections, how often he still wondered if what was in front of him was real. 

"Of course," he said dryly, seeing Ash's skeptical, _Really, Pike?_ expression perfectly, "I look at this mess and don't have any trouble knowing it's real. At least, I hope the Talosians wouldn't think this is something I'd want." He usually sat while he recorded these logs, but he'd had to pace the whole time he talked about the illusions. "It's the good things I don't trust, even now. Which," he sighed, "probably has a lot to do with … us. We can talk about that, if you want. You know, when Spock and the rest of my geniuses figure out how to get us through this and home." 

Getting out an explanation of the Talosians was one thing, but Boreth was something else again. Chris thought about it every night, at first deciding he'd count not talking about it as his one indulgence in the grinding slog the mission had turned out to be, even as he knew that was nothing more than yet another excuse. Sitting on the _Enterprise_ with nothing to do but try not to let his crew, his family, die lit everything else in his life in sharp relief. He could see where that knowledge had thrown up barriers around everything he'd thought he'd wanted, but he couldn't quite see where he could get past them. He was finally willing to try, though, he thought. He just needed to get the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise crew member names are from the episodes themselves + the tie-in novel _The Enterprise War_. I guess we're still arguing about Number One's name, because you can't really tease out what Pike says the one time he says it on the bridge (AM's accent slides in there) but Michelle Paradise (co-exec producer) confirmed he said "Una". I think one of the more recent tie-in novels has that as her last name, but I used Robbins (from a long ago comic series that featured her) the last time I wrote in Trek, so I really do think of her as Lt. Commander Robbins. (This isn't pertinent to what's posted yet, but I needed to settle on a last name fast (because Ash sure as hell isn't going to call her anything less formal than her rank and last name.)


	4. Chapter 4

The little private world they've created, the lanai and the lagoon, their food delivered with a discretion that borders magic, is soothing and healing, but Chris finally reaches a point where the thought of one more perfect sunset enjoyed in solitude is enough to make him want to scream. 

Ash laughs when Chris says that, turning onto his side where he's stretched out on the lanai'i, baking in the suns. "You're not exactly the poster boy for quiet, introverted life." Chris snorts, prodding at Ash's side with one foot. "I'm pretty shocked it took this long."

"Well," Chris says, digging in a little harder and grinning when Ash shifts hastily, before Chris can get to the spot that makes him squirm, "I have had some excellent distractions."

Ash smiles, lazy and smug, and Chris knows he's supposed to take at least mock-offense at the grin, but since Ash really does have the right to be wearing it, Chris isn't really motivated to put any effort into a reaction. Plus, he's privately pretty damn happy that they seem to have gotten to a place where Ash feels like he _can_ be smug and superior. Before he can go too much further down that rabbit hole, Ash is rolling to his feet and reaching over Chris to where his PADD is sitting under the sun awning. 

"Here," Ash says, leaning down for a kiss and handing the PADD to Chris. "The shortlist came from Commander Robbins. Pick which place you want and I'll put the reservation in."

"Efficient," Chris murmurs, feeling very well taken care of. All of the choices Una has listed seem ridiculously over the top, but then he's always thought that about Risa, so he picks one at random, hands the PADD back to Ash, and two hours later, they're on the way back over the mountains behind the _bure_ toward the city, Chris with the PADD back in hand, looking over clubs and restaurants and entertainment options.

Chris is a little worried that he's running roughshod over Ash's preferences, but Ash only laughs, saying, "I went from being a very junior lieutenant to the Torchbearer to being buried with 31--I wouldn’t even know where to start. Have at it."

Chris takes him at his word, but looks everything over with a much more critical eye than he might have done for just himself. 

The room _is_ ridiculous, one giant bed in the middle of the floor, two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows gone transparent to show the twilight-lit city outside. Ash raises an eyebrow, and Chris feels obliged to remind him they're on Risa because Ash suggested it.

"Years ago," Ash points out. "And I picked it for the beach."

"I like to keep my promises," Chris answers. It comes out more seriously than he intended, but he does mean it, so there they are. "But we can blame this on Number One--she probably vetted hotels based on how extreme they are."

The rest of the night goes along about how Risian advertisements go: dinner and a circuit or two at the casino attached to the hotel, where Chris is vastly entertained by how well Ash bluffs, even on games he's never played before. They could stay there all night--the casinos never close--but after a few hours, Chris moves them on to tremendously over-priced drinks at an old favorite of a jazz lounge, where Chris tolerates the prices only because the drinks are at least good for all they're expensive and they’ve always had the type of layout where all the tables have decent privacy _and_ very low lighting, so it doesn’t matter that his hand is on Ash’s thigh the whole time they’re there. 

Ash is just hassling Chris about heading back (he does have a point, Chris acknowledges. It's been a long day and Chris has fully booked them up with tours and reservations for the next day already and he knows they're not going to sleep for a good while, not with all the ideas stacking up in Chris' head inspired by how very well Ash can sprawl out in the small chairs, long, long legs and wide shoulders propped on the wall behind him) when a voice cuts through the music and low conversations in the room.

"Captain! Captain Pike, sir!" 

Ash's lazy grin says he's been waiting for something like this, which Chris can acknowledge is not far off the mark--he _has_ been around for awhile and he does tend to run into people he knows. He recognizes the voice, too.

"The owner," he says to Ash.

"Because of course you know the owner," Ash mutters in return, his grin turning to something more like a smirk.

"Captain!"

Sighing, Chris drags his attention away from Ash's lounging skills and turns to the small Risian rushing up to greet him. 

"Captain, we had heard you were lost--"

"We managed to get ourselves found, Edan," Chris says, smiling as he stands up to take the Risian's hands. 

"I did not believe my security when they said it was you, but here you are, and we are so pleased you chose to visit with us while you are here."

"Where else would I go to celebrate?" Chris says, turning to not exactly introduce Ash, but at least bring him into the conversation.

"Very good, very good," Edan laughs. He leans closer to Ash to confide, "Here at our club, we treat as clan-family those who have come to us for all of the important times that deserve to be commemorated." His eyes linger on Ash a little longer than would be polite in most other places in the galaxy. "Please do remember that for your own needs."

"I think I'm the one who owes you thanks," Chris interrupts, before things escalate. He clearly hadn't been thinking when he'd decided to bring Ash here, especially an Ash dressed for the entertainment district; Chris should have known he wouldn't be the only one with an appreciative eye. "Especially since you keep letting me back in after the, uh, captaincy celebration."

Edan laughs again, finally tearing his eyes off Ash and reaching out and taking one of Chris' hands between both of his. "Such a celebration that was--how many days was it?"

"Three?" Chris guesses. His memories are more than a little blurry. "Four?"

"Oh, at least five," Edan laughs. "Nights, too."

"Really," Ash says, seemingly fascinated with how Edan is patting Chris' hand. 

"I think those days are long past me," Chris says, getting his hand free as diplomatically as possible.

"You know that you are always welcome to join with us," Edan says. "Your compatriot, too." He flicks his gaze just a little too appraisingly over Ash. "It would be a great joy to host such a striking duo, the dark setting off the light, youth buoying a certain maturity--"

"Thank you, Edan," Chris says as calmly as he can. Going on the amusement in Ash's eyes, he probably hadn't scrubbed all the possessive hackles out of his tone. It's fine; Risians are generally amused by jealous displays, but Chris had more-or-less thought he'd grown out of it all. "I appreciate the invitation, but we were just on our way back to the hotel."

"Of course, Captain," the Risian answers, eyeing Ash now with a tinge of regret that Chris has zero guilt in causing. "Perhaps on your next visit." 

"Perhaps," Chris concedes, which is not exactly an untruth. It takes another few minutes of pleasantries, and Chris loses the battle not to have their orders comped, but they finally get disentangled and out the door, an extra round of drinks in hand.

"Five days," Ash says. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I blame it on Barnett," Chris says.

"Admiral Barnett, really?"

"You have no idea," Chris mutters.

"I--can't decide if I want to have one or not," Ash says,and Chris snorts. "But we don't really have to go back. I mean, if you want to go join the, uh, whatever, I was just hassling you for the sake of--"

"That was an invitation to a Risian... celebration of life," Chris says.

"And you don't want to go because...?"

"Well, orgy, is probably a better description of the process." 

Ash chokes on the last of his drink.

"We can, uh, talk about it, if you want, but I'm not exactly at a point where I want to share," Chris says, the unspoken _you_ loud and clear in the silence.

"Okay," Ash says, looking back over his shoulder. "I--uh, okay?"

"Risians have a very… open attitude toward sex," Chris says, smiling. "They like to share it with everyone."

"I've heard--that," Ash says. "Still didn't really expect, you know, an invitation to one out of tonight."

"Stick with me, kid," Chris counters. "You never know what’s happening next."

"Yeah, not going anywhere," Ash answers, which Chris takes as his turn to have things turn out a little more seriously than it might have sounded in his head. 

The room is even more ridiculous in the night, the bed floating in the middle and the lights of the city spread out around them, but for some reason that Chris is not thinking about, neither one of them seems ready to do much more than lie back and talk.

"What _did_ you do when you made captain?" Ash asks.

"Drank entirely too much overpriced whiskey," Chris answers dryly. "Picked up the tab for far too many people I barely knew." He shakes his head and sighs, "Allowed Edan's sister? Wife? I never did get all the details to, uh, persuade me accept an invitation."

"I'm shocked." Ash sounds amused. "You were the youngest captain in Starfleet history and you only had an orgy?"

"Well, two," Chris says with as much of a deadpan as he can dig up, even if he can feel his face heating a little. Admitting to youthful sexual escapades to your much younger boyfriend is supposed to be less mortifying than it apparently is. Thankfully the room is dark enough that Chris can pretend it's all fine.

And maybe it is--Ash only laughs at his admission, and Chris still likes being able to make that happen. In fact, after the last year, he thinks he likes making it happen even more than he'd thought possible. 

"Possibly also took the stage with Kat and Phillipa," Chris admits. "I was on vocals."

"Please tell me there's a holo," Ash says, flat on his back and breathless with laughter now.

"Oh, there was, but it got taken care of," Chris answers. "Nothing to see here, move along."

"If I comm Commander Robbins, will she say the same thing?"

"Absolutely," Chris says instantly.

Ash half sits, leaning up on his elbows, laughing again. "Liar."

"Nice trust."

"You have so many tells, Pike."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Chris sighs. It gets quiet again, but then Chris hears himself saying, no joking at all, "You should probably call me on them a little more often."

"I figured you'd get around to it," Ash says, equally as serious. "When you were ready."

"I don't know that that's the best plan," Chris admits.

"Okay," Ash says quietly. He twists around so he's on his side, close enough that he can tilt his head and rest it against Chris' shoulder. "Tell me about Boreth." 

Chris isn't actually surprised that Ash has figured out where the sticking point in Chris' brain is, but hearing him say it so straightforwardly still takes Chris' breath away. And when he gets past that and opens his mouth to tell Ash about the time crystal and the vision, he can't. The words are there (_I saw my future and I don't know how I can do it without going insane_) but he literally can't force them out of his chest. 

Ash waits with him and then, very carefully lays one hand against Chris' face, his palm warm and strong against Chris' cheek. "When you're ready, Christopher."

* * *

Spock had triangulated (well, something far more complicated than simple triangulation, but Chris hadn't looked at advanced geometry in decades so the metaphor worked fine) a possible position for them and was working out headings and timings for possible warp factors with Una and Lt. Amin. Engineering was all but certain that the problem had been sabotage rather than native failure, which made Chris' blood boil, but also meant they were looking for things that were already anomalous rather than rolling the dice and hoping nothing else failed.

Chris did his best to keep everyone focused on the endgame, mitigated intra-departmental arguments, made final decisions on a dozen issues every day. He didn't escape the viral infection that swept the ship, but he didn't land in Medbay either, so he took that as a plus and even followed Phil's orders to stay in bed. Spock stepped up and took the conn for the few days he missed, which was a good thing in its own way, and sent Chris off down another path to make sure his leadership team was interacting with their junior officers, encouraging them to keep notes for commendations so that when they got back, everyone would get the recognition they all deserved. 

They'd just cut food rations by another ten percent, dropping them down to near starvation, when Louvier and Engineering reported formally that they'd managed to jury rig the warp core for a single jump. The kicker was, of course, that there was no way to test their fix end-to-end, so they couldn't tell if it was going to actually work. 

Chris talked to every one of his section chiefs. He waited a day and talked to them again. They all agreed that it was a huge risk, but they were running out of food, even having cut rations again and again, and there wasn't a lot they could do about that either. Phil stayed behind to let Chris know privately that they were running low on basic supplies in Medbay, too; one more round of even a mild viral infection and they were going to start losing the more vulnerable members of the crew.

Chris had one final briefing with Una and Spock where they passed the reports around and cross-checked every question any of them could think up. In the end, though, Chris was the captain. It was his call to make.

On the way out of Chris' quarters, Spock stopped and said, "It is impossible to know the future, Captain." 

As he did with anything that came too close to Boreth and the time crystals, Chris moved to shut down the conversation, but Spock uncharacteristically ignored him. "Even those of us who have touched it cannot be certain of all of its ramifications."

"That is an oddly specific metaphor, Lieutenant." Chris didn't mean for everything to come out as coldly as it did, but they were treading on dangerous ground and he was already exhausted and ground down.

"No metaphor, sir." Spock looked straight ahead, past Chris' shoulder. "My sister, before she left, told me that she had seen the exact scene we were seeing as _Enterprise_ and _Discovery_ fought Control. She had touched the time crystal she was using to power the Red Angel suit and seen the future, but it did not progress in our reality as it had in her vision." 

"And your point, Mr. Spock?" Chris gritted out. 

Spock finally turned and looked Chris dead in the eyes. "My point is that even with the objects known to show the future, one cannot _know_ it until it happens. You, sir, cannot be certain of our fate, no matter what was shown to you on Boreth. No one expects perfection of you, Captain, merely that you apply your formidable talents to the problem."

"Well said, Spock," Una said in that bright tone that she used when Chris was getting caught up in his head over things she felt he had no need to. "We'll see you in the morning, Captain."

Chris' personal log that night was about making the decision to risk the life of every single soul on his ship, and he ended it by telling Ash how grateful he was that Ash hadn't just walked away from him during the ridiculous fight, that he'd never been happier to have spent months and months of his pay on a single comm so that they could work things between them to a resolution.

"I really hope you get to ride my ass about that martyr complex again," he said, closing down the file and going to order preparations to jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t not send them off to the more populated part of Risa, right?


	5. Chapter 5

The day Chris completes a run across the lagoon beach and back without throwing up is the signal that this Risian idyll he's constructed is coming to its end. Ash sets him up with a full communications suite and Chris starts back in triaging his notifications. He's taken a couple of transmissions from Una and Phil, but otherwise has been completely off the grid. The real world comes screaming back in, but Chris finds he's more-or-less ready for it, so it's not an entirely bad thing. 

Their time loses the almost hazy quality of days and nights blurring into each other, no schedule beyond sleep and food. They're still in their little _bure_, still virtually alone on the sweep of the lagoon, but time sharpens around them, as though each minute needs to be committed to memory. Chris has seen Ash shake the water out of his hair every single day they've been on Risa, but now he _sees_ it, sees the drops flying across the lanai, each one catching the sun as they fall to the deck; sees the ones left behind sliding in quick-drying paths across the skin on Ash's shoulders and arms and back; knows that Ash's kiss will be salty and cold from the mineral-rich water, but will warm up quickly. 

The sex they have turns sharper and focused and laser-etched as well, the lazy hours of touching and kissing edging into bright clashes where they both wring as much pleasure as they can from each other. Chris knows that if he lays back and wraps his hands around the posts at the head of the bed, Ash will tease him until he's hard and then ride him until they're both half-crazy. He knows that as long as he stays in Ash's line of sight, he can pin Ash's wrists to the bed and fuck him until he comes without a single touch to his cock. Chris knows Ash likes to curl around him and fuck him before the sun's really up so they start the day already boneless and satisfied. He knows Ash knows how much he likes to be fucked from behind and how few people he's ever let in on that.

Every day, Chris feels like they're wrapping themselves tighter and tighter around each other, slow, steady progress toward something he knows he's long since thought impossible. If he's reading Ash right, they're in uncharted territory there, too, but no one's calling a halt or even a delay. And then one day, one of the ones where the rain clouds are stacked up over the mountains, sweeping down and over the lagoon one after the other, so quickly that the rainbows that inevitably follow haven't cleared before the next rain begins, Ash watches Chris all morning--Chris feels his gaze through every comm he accepts, every report he signs off on, every message he composes; and when he's finished, standing up from the screens and leaving his PADD behind, Ash is there waiting to kiss him into the bedroom and lay him out on the bed. 

The suns are high and bright, the light diamond clear as Ash moves purposely over Chris, stripping them both, running his hands and mouth over all of Chris, nothing wasted, nothing teasing. Chris returns the touches as best he can, leaning up to take Ash's mouth with his own, letting his own hands stroke slowly over thighs and abs and shoulders. When Ash reaches for the lube, Chris lets him spill some on his hand and takes his time working Ash open, letting him ride Chris' hand until he's sweat-slicked and breathless, open and slick and wanting. 

"'S good, sweetheart," Chris gasps as Ash sinks down on his cock, taking Chris inside him in one long, glorious stroke. "So good." 

Ash fucks himself with a careful, deliberate attention that Chris knows is real because he never came close to imagining anything like it before. If he turns his head, he can see them in the mirror on the other side of the room, a long view that lets him appreciate the lithe strength in Ash's movements, but he likes it better when he can see Ash's face, watch his eyes, his smile.

He lets Ash set the pace, lets him drive them close, so close, but as soon as he reaches out and fits his hands to Ash's hips, Ash stills. 

"No rush, sweetheart," Chris murmurs. "Show me how long you can take it." Ash shudders against him, but nods, and Chris lets him start moving again. Ash does like Chris asks, drawing it out and out and out while Chris talks to him, tells him how beautiful he is, how good he feels, how much Chris wants him. When he stops, shaking and gasping, Chris makes sure to touch him the whole time: long petting strokes along his thighs, careful fingers combing through his hair, his palm flat against Ash's chest so he can feel the solid, strong beat of his heart.

Ash leans into every touch, and Chris has another one of those moments where he feels like he's seeing for the first time. Ash has let his hair grow to where it's nearly to his shoulders, long curls wild from the wind and water, while he's kept his beard short and clipped. Chris knows the touch of it against his skin, but when he leans up to kiss his way along Ash's jaw, the feeling is sharp and fresh and new. 

This time, when Ash starts moving, it's slow, barely there shifts of his hips and he turns his head and catches Chris' mouth in a long, open-mouthed kiss. Chris lets himself fall into everything, Ash around him and against him; and when Ash finally can't draw it out any longer and they both come, Chris doesn't know if it's been a few minutes or a few hours, but he still keeps Ash close.

Later, when the light from the suns has shifted to the warmer, golden glow of late afternoon, and Chris is still tangled up with Ash, he hears himself saying, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, "I did what I had to on Boreth, but I don't know how I'm supposed to live with the choice I made."

Ash wraps himself more tightly around Chris, anchoring him wordlessly while Chris makes himself describe the things the crystal showed him. "There was an accident, radiation leaks. I got to the cadets, but I— The containment door—" He stops and forces himself to breathe, matching it to Ash's slow, steady pace. He knows Ash is doing it purposely so he can follow, and he's so grateful for the lifeline he wants to weep. "It all happened so fast," he says, steadied and buoyed by the care, "and I couldn't get myself there in time."

Ash's arms tighten around him, holding Chris so close he can let go and still be safe, but even with that, he doesn't know if he can finish things. The first part was the easy part; it's the second vision the crystal showed him that Chris finds unspeakable.

Ash breaks the silence, though, still holding Chris close as he asks quietly, "And?" He presses a kiss to Chris' temple. "No one wants to see something like that, but there's more, isn't there." Chris' head jerks in a nod, one that Ash echoes. "I'm so sorry, _sanam_."

"I saw--" Chris starts, but can't go on for the longest time, until he finally manages to choke out, "It didn't kill me." Ash makes a low, abortive noise and Chris sees understanding and pain flash across his face. He doesn't rush Chris, only waits with seemingly endless patience until Chris can go on. "The crystal--it showed me what was left." Somehow, getting that out breaks the dam and the rest rushes out. "I saw what I'll become--looked into my own eyes and saw how much I wanted to die, and that--that's--I don't know how I'm going to to live knowing that. I—want to say I’d do it, I _do_, but what if I can’t?"

Ash doesn't back off, doesn't draw away, only says after a little while, "I started to tell you that you’re the only being in this galaxy who’d doubt that you, _you_, specifically, wouldn’t be the one to make sure everyone else got to safety before you tried to get there yourself, but that’s ..." He pauses, considering his words. "The expectations that puts on you… it’s not fair. No one should have to carry that." 

Chris can't help it, but he's shaking now, long, slow tremors that he would do anything to control, but can't. Ash doesn't try to coax him out of it, just keeps breathing in that same even pace.

"But, Christopher, I have no doubt that what you saw was a … moment. A blip, maybe, or maybe not anything that short, but, but not anything permanent, because I can’t see any scenario, no matter how bad, that you, _you_, don’t keep fighting to find a way to keep going. I don't."

Ash doesn't press Chris to answer or say anything more, just keeps on holding Chris close, as though he can't bear to let him go and Chris lets himself be held, seconds slipping into minutes and then into hours. It's nearly dark, the second sun only a sliver at the edge of the lagoon when Chris finally stirs. Ash eases back a little, still not really letting Chris go, and Chris is all but blinded by the sudden realization that _this_ is half of what he's been running so hard from, this not knowing how anyone could possibly accept such an impossible thing. 

He manages to say that, too, and Ash breathes in once, sharp and harsh, and his eyes, when he lifts his head from where he's had it tucked into the curve of Chris' shoulder, there's just enough light to see that his eyes are dark and serious and knowing.

"Yeah," he says, low and gritty, and Chris is hit with just how well Ash understands that relief, why he knows it, all of Ash's impossible things, everything he's lived through, no warnings they were coming, no time to prepare. "That's a big thing, yeah." 

Ash lays his head back down and Chris' fingers find their way into his hair, long combing strokes that soothe Chris as much as they seem to for Ash. "Thanks for taking all of mine on, by the way."

Chris wishes he’d thought about those more before they’d started this relationship—he doesn’t think it would have stopped him, but he might not have made as many mistakes as they’d tried to navigate the process. Then again, he really is an idiot in a lot of ways, but they're here, now, and he can be happy about that. He shifts around so Ash can stretch out beside him and decides there really isn't anything else that needs to happen. 

They jerk awake time and again during the night--both their brains unsurprisingly churned up by Chris' confession--but no one is alone. Chris can't decide whether it's better to know Ash is there or to know he's there for Ash, but decides it doesn't really matter. Both are good and they've managed to get to the place where both can happen.

* * *

It was, without a doubt, the most nerve-wracking command Chris had ever given from the captain's chair, but he took the heading and warp factor Spock and Amin had calculated and relayed them formally to Helm.

"Aye, Captain," Una acknowledged, as calm as if it was any other jump. She'd shifted from the chair down to the helm when Chris had taken the conn; Chris wouldn't have had it any other way. "Course heading and speed locked in." She hesitated, and then, most unusually, turned around to look at Chris. Her eyes were steady, unafraid, but it was impossible to miss how much weight she'd lost, how pronounced her cheekbones were in her fined-down face. "Waiting for your command to jump."

Chris nodded slightly, his eyes sliding over the familiar lines of the bridge, the familiar faces of Alpha shift. He trusted Spock's math and Louvier's engineering, but there were still so many unknowns. Even if he took the time crystal's view of his future as unchangeable, it didn't mean he wasn't about to kill his crew while he survived. If he took Spock's information about Burnham's visions as also applying to his own situation… well, that threw everything into the mix. Chris looked at Spock, who was waiting with seemingly imperturbable Vulcan patience, which at least suggested that Chris' hesitation wasn't entirely illogical. Chris' decision was made, though, and now was not the time to second guess. He took a deep breath and nodded to Una. 

"Hit it," he said.

The warp signature outside the forward screen _looked_ right, but everything had looked that way right up to and until the sabotage fried the systems. Chris forced himself to sit calmly in the chair, blindly flicking through readouts and occasionally asking for bullshit reports, just to keep up the semblance of normality. After two hours, he gave up the pretense, and as they approached three, he was out of the chair to stand behind Una as she watched over the data flowing across her screen. 

"Dropping out of warp," she finally called, "in three, two--" and the view outside the forward screen resolved to a non-warp view of stars, one that Chris thought looked familiar, though he couldn't tell if that was true or just how badly he didn't want to acknowledge the very real possibility that he'd sent his crew into something worse --

"I have Starbase 11 off the starboard bow," Amin called, her voice cracking with disbelief, right as Nicola said, "Sir, we have a Priority Alpha hail coming through."

Chris gripped Una's shoulder a little harder than was necessary, not to mention polite, but she reached up and covered his hand with her own, squeezing back just as hard, so he was probably forgiven. 

"Sir?" Nicola called, and Chris turned back to the chair to input his codes and take the hail. 

"Give me a shipwide channel first, Lieutenant," Chris said. He hadn't actually thought about what to say here--it felt too much like tempting fate with too many lives in the balance--and now that everything had worked, he had nothing in his brain, so he settled for a simple, "Enterprise, we're home. Stand by for continuing orders," and then had Nicola put the hail onscreen.

They were fortunately within easy shuttle distance of the 'base, so once everyone there picked their collective jaw up off the deck and started actually, you know, using their heads, Chris gave the evacuation order and people started flowing out. 

The bridge crew filled the time before their turn in the long queue with backing up systems and off-loading all telemetry and messaging data. Chris tried to make sure he spoke with each one of them as they left with their evacuation teams, but Amin slipped out while he was conferring with the chief shipyard engineer at the starbase, and he only got a quick few seconds with Una, hardly enough time to convey everything that needed to be said there. 

After the bridge was cleared, Chris made himself separate data package with secondary back-ups of everything that pointed to sabotage. Once he could assess how the wind was blowing around Starfleet Command, he'd assess whether he needed to turn it over to Ash. One way or another, he wasn't letting this be buried.

_Boyce to the bridge_, Phil's voice echoed through the comm link. _This 'base doesn't have the biggest shuttle bay, Captain. It's getting a little crowded here, but nobody's leaving until you're here._

"On my way," Chris answered, taking one final look around the bridge before authenticating the sleep sequence that would let the _Enterprise_ be led into the starbase's shipyards. The lift to the shuttle bay was fast, and Louvier was waiting for him with the final shuttle so that all the proprieties were observed, Captain and Chief Engineer the last off the damaged ship.

"Outstanding job, Commander," Chris said as they lifted off. "Outstanding. Please relay my appreciation for a job well-done--above and beyond the call of duty--to your team and tell them I'll be making that recognition formally as well."

"Thank you, sir," Louvier answered. "I could say the same."

"Not quite done yet," Chris said as they watched the starbase grow to fill the forward view screen. 

Phil hadn't been kidding: the entire complement of the _Enterprise_ was crammed into the waiting area, spilling out into the passageway behind it. Chris let Chief Louvier make the announcement, his voice still strong and deep (_Enterprise! Shift colors; stand down_) as Chris made his way through the crowd, speaking briefly with his section chiefs and veering off to meet the commander of the starbase. 

A member of the base's medical team intercepted him before he got too far into the crowd, pressing a protein drink into his hand and making noises that they wanted to scan him. He waved them off in favor of getting to the command team. They were still a bit at sea, scrambling to deal with the influx of the thousand or so beings who'd just landed on them, but so long as they were listening to his leadership team and following through on what everyone needed, Chris was going to hold off on telling them how to do their jobs. 

Phil had been the senior officer on the ground first, which meant he should have been one of the first to get billeted and be done with it all, but when Chris glanced over, he was growling at another set of the 'base's medical team, triaging the patients he and his team had been following and, Chris judged, nowhere near ready to hand off their care, so he turned to Una. 

"I'm sure there's a soaking tub with your name on it somewhere around here," Chris said. 

"A bottle of Saurian brandy would be better," Una answered, "but I suppose I could work out a few issues after a day or two in hot water." They stood and grinned at each other like a couple of idiots, until Una shook her head, saying, "I almost thought we weren't going to pull this one off, but here we are."

"Here we are," Chris agreed. "Wouldn't have made it without you," he added, which was the least he could say, but she was not one for sentimental declarations so he was saving it for his recommendation for commendation and highest honors. "Stand down, Number One," he finished, sending her off and motioning Spock to step up and cover as First Officer. 

By Chris' reckoning, it took another two hours to clear the shuttle bay and confirm with his team that everyone was settled. Spock was with him to the end--Chris had tried to relieve him, but had gotten a _very_ Vulcan side-eye, which Chris was taking as collusion with Una and Phil--and was still standing with Chris when the deck officer nodded to a shuttle that was just touching down and said to Chris, "That'll be the first wave from Starfleet Command, sir. You should have ducked out when you had the chance."

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Lieutenant," Chris answered, a lot less sharply than he might ordinarily have replied to a junior officer suggesting he shirk a responsibility, but only because he knew the call sign on the shuttle and that it belonged to Section 31. 

Ash didn't keep him waiting, descending down out of the hatch in only a few minutes and crossing the deck with long strides that looked unhurried, but ate up the ground nonetheless. 

"I'll leave you to Commander Tyler," Spock said, which confirmed Chris' guess that at least he and Una were aware of the situation. Phil had probably ratted him out, but Chris really couldn't be bothered.

"Spock," he called. "Excellent work out there. Just, extraordinary. Thank you for getting us home."

"Thank you for trusting me, sir," Spock answered, a little flushed and emotional. Chris pretended not to notice. "Not every captain would have done so."

"Well," Chris said, "the rank doesn't confer infallibility."

"I'll be sure to remember that, sir," Spock said, turning to leave smartly enough that Chris absolutely was not surprised to find Ash no more than a step away.

"So," Chris said, wincing at the inanity. "I--"

"You," Ash echoed, shaking his head once, as if to be sure he was where he was. Chris was familiar with the feeling. He got himself back under control, standing still and composed except for his eyes flicking over Chris unceasingly, as though he needed as many data points as possible. "You only had supplies for six months."

"We stretched them," Chris said, again with the inanity. He was purposely not thinking about how his uniform was practically hanging off him, not now that they were home, but he couldn't block out the knowledge of just how close they'd cut it and he finally couldn't ignore his bone-deep exhaustion, both physical and mental, as though the last bit of energy he'd been hoarding had been used up making sure everyone was settled. He wanted to touch Ash, wanted to step close and feel his strength and warmth, but was keenly aware of how very out in public they were. 

"Walk with me, Commander," Chris said instead, shoving everything he wanted down in favor of everything the bars on his sleeves said he needed to do. _One last thing,_ he told himself, and then he'd see where letting himself follow-through on something he wanted led him. 

Ash fell into step with Chris, who really had no idea where he was going, except for how every generation of starbases had the same general architecture and layout and he'd bounced around enough of them that he could get them to the admin offices and a private-ish room without really thinking about it.

Chris made sure the door was firmly closed behind them before he pulled the data stick out of his pocket, palming it to show to Ash. As he'd hoped, Ash nodded once, pulling a slick little tile out of his own pocket and tapping it twice on the conference table. It glowed softly and Ash said, "We're clear."

Chris wanted to say something light and joking about Section 31 and their toys, but his brain was fogged with tiredness--and hunger, and that particular uncertainty that always followed the end of an adrenaline rush. He settled for pressing the data stick into Ash's hands and saying, "It's everything we found on the warp core and the interface to the nav systems."

Ash flashed him a serious look even as he fitted the data stick to the reader slot on his PADD. 

"My engineering, security, and science teams agree that it wasn't a fluke or a random set of disasters interacting."

Ash nodded again, his expression darkening as he flicked through the data and reports and visuals Chris had collected.

"Everything there is also in all of our standard reporting and logging, but…" Chris rubbed hard at the bridge of his nose, hating that he had to admit the inevitable. "I don't know what the situation is at Command, but I'm not risking that information being buried to save someone's career."

"I'm on it," Ash said simply and Chris felt a tiny bit of the weight he'd been carrying slide off him. "We've already been pushing things, and I’m not backing off now."

"Thank you," Chris said. He reached into his pocket again and took out the smaller, encrypted data pod. "The captain's logs are in the usual data transfer packets, but this--" he handed the pod to Ash, "--is the only copy of my personal logs and they're for you."

"Chris--"

"I might have been rambling a bit," Chris said, backing off suddenly, recognizing that he might be assuming things that no longer applied. He'd been gone for a long time and just because he'd talked to a mythical Ash to keep himself sane didn't mean Ash hadn't dealt with the incident differently. "Don’t feel like you have to go through all of it—"

"Yeah, because that’s really going to happen," Ash answered, but Chris' brain was already skipping off to another topic. On a deep, basic level, he recognized he wasn’t ready to hear if Ash had moved on, even if he wasn't seeing much basis for that in front of him.

"I need to find Amin," Chris said; he'd missed speaking with her again as the crew had disbursed. "My navigator," he added, so he wasn't entirely speaking in non sequiturs. "We wouldn't be here if she hadn't gone through every star map in the system, practically bit by bit and I didn't get the chance to make sure she knows I know how much effort she put into that--"

He turned to go, to retrace his steps back to the shuttle bay and find out from the deck officer where the bridge team had been billeted, but Ash caught his arm before he got more than a step or two toward the door.

"If I swear I will not let you forget, will you let me take you to your quarters now?" Ash's voice came from seemingly far away and Chris had to concentrate hard to understand. 

"Yes," he finally said, because a bed and a shower that came without the need to get up and do everything all over again sounded too good to pass up. He looked at Ash, seeing nothing but concern and care, and told himself to stop with the idiocies. If there was something that needed to be said, they needed to get it said. "Except, no."

"Come again?" 

"Yes," Chris said, enunciating carefully. "I'll go with you."

"Okay, and the no?"

"I know it's been a long time--"

"A little more than nine months, but who's counting?" Ash said it lightly enough, but even through the crashing weariness that was threatening to bury Chris, he could hear the seriousness underlying it all.

"Even before all of this--" Chris waved vaguely toward the shuttle bay and by extension, space and the _Enterprise_\-- "We--you and me--we'd talked and I thought--I _think_\--we've gotten past--"

"We're good," Ash confirmed, watching Chris carefully, as though he was afraid Chris was going to object to his assessment, which was ridiculous, but Chris didn't really have the energy to argue about that.

"Then, I'd really like to--" Chris reached out and laid his hand along the curve of Ash's jaw, warm skin and soft beard lighting up all the nerves in his palm and fingertips-- "I'd really like to kiss you first," Chris said. "Now."

"We can do that," Ash said, not exactly smiling, but with an expression that was lighter and more open, one that Chris hadn't seen in so long that it seemed like a miracle to be one the receiving end of it again. He was still holding Chris' arm, so it was easy enough for Chris to turn and take a step and be right up against him. The last time they'd been this close, there'd been so much anger and resentment in the air Chris wasn't sure how either of them had been able to breathe. He'd worried that there'd be a spillover from that, but instead, Ash leaned in to meet him halfway, his mouth brushing gently across Chris', once and then again, and one more time, and Chris finally let himself believe he'd made it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Pike isn’t supposed to talk to anyone about the time crystal, but seriously, how is that supposed to work? I mean, how do they know that the person who sees the future isn’t going to screw it up somehow, especially when it’s something that takes so much active participation — if Chris can’t just keep merrily being awesome because he can’t sleep for the nightmares, does he end up a Fleet Captain & assigned to the training exercise? 
> 
> /rant
> 
> Carry on :: kisses::


	6. Chapter 6

Neither one of them sleeps much the last night they have on Risa. 

Every time Chris comes awake, Ash is breathing too carefully next to him, and when he finally gives up pretending and reaches out, Ash moves easily into his arms, fitting himself along Chris' side in his favorite full-body press.

"No sense not taking advantage of not sleeping," Chris murmurs. 

"Better insomnia through cuddling?" Ash answers, a thread of laughter dancing through his voice. 

"Something like that," Chris says, smiling into the darkness, knowing Ash will hear it in his voice, too. The first time they'd shared a bed, they'd ended up sleeping like this, Chris on his back with Ash pressed along his side. Chris remembers thinking then how good it had felt, but now, here, years later, he knows how guarded they'd both been. Now, he knows how Ash feels when he's truly relaxed against him, knows the weight of Ash's leg when it's thrown over his own without any restraint or control and how much closer it brings them when he threads his own leg around it so that they're wrapped around each other. Ash's hair is wild against Chris' shoulder, his neck, under his jaw, and when he brings his arm up to lay heavy across Chris' chest, Chris brings his own arm up to lay on top of it, skin to skin to skin, alive and warm and almost decadent in how much Chris loves getting to feel it 

Ash breathes steadily against Chris, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against the skin over Chris' last rib. If they hadn't spent the previous afternoon all over each other, Chris would have given a thought to taking things further along the path to sex, but they'd both been acutely aware of how little time they had left together in their little cocoon. Ash had pulled Chris down onto the lounge for easy kisses and touches that slowly ramped up as Chris had flung both their clothes across the deck. Long, lazy blowjobs had given way to Chris spreading Ash out on the bed and pushing deep into him, pulling together every last shred of his control to fuck him right on the edge of too much, long enough that Ash was hoarse from begging and Chris wasn't so much breathing as sobbing. 

When Chris had finally leaned close and whispered, "Come for me, love," Ash had arched up into to him so beautifully, so utterly in Chris' thrall, his body so taut and tight against and around Chris' that Chris never had a chance of keeping to his original plan of holding on and lasting through Ash's orgasm so he could see how long he could keep driving them both. In the space of a heartbeat, Chris lost that battle, his own orgasm crashing down over him, one wave after another of blinding pleasure that left him shaking and spent and sure that so long as Ash is letting him in this close, Chris is going to be helpless not to follow.

"This feels better," Ash says, drawing Chris back to the warm, dark night. "Not just this," he shifts pointedly against Chris, "not just the physical, but all of it." He tips his head back to mouth along the underside of Chris' jaw, his mouth curving into a smile when Chris can't help shivering at the touch. "Us."

Chris hums in agreement, waiting with the rest of his answer because it feels as though Ash has more to say. Running a starship is a lot about listening and knowing when it's time to talk. 

"It was good, before," Ash does finally continue, "but I think I was just waiting for it to fall apart."

"It almost did," Chris says, and it's Ash's turn to answer wordlessly. Chris reminds himself that listening is just as important of a skill for Ash and that it's okay for someone else to listen to him, someone other than Una or Phil, someone in a non-professional capacity. "I think I'm only starting to realize how much energy it takes to carry— Boreth. You knowing… it helps."

Chris finds himself tracing long strokes along the length of Ash's spine, slow and rhythmic. He lets the motion lull them both for a long time, the breeze through the trees and the quiet whisper of the small waves on the sand outside of their windows seemingly becoming louder as he settles more and more quietly against Ash.

"I've been thinking," Chris finally murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper because that's all the louder it needs to be, "that I might want to put the place in San Francisco on the market, see what else is out there."

"It's a nice place," Ash says. "Why go through the hassle?"

"Because it's my house, and I think I want someplace that's ours."

Ash stays still, but Chris thinks the long muscles under his stroking hand have tensed ever so slightly. 

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "That was a cheap, cowardly way to ask you if you wanted to take that step."

"Is that what you want?" Ash finally asks. Chris can't read anything from his voice. "I mean, it's not going to be like this."

"No, it's not," Chris agrees, less because he thinks Ash might actually think Chris does believe this pretty dream world they've concocted is going to last and more to acknowledge that it _has_ existed, however temporarily. It seems important to note that, that they've been able to create the last weeks, almost as a liminal space in their lives, something that's let Chris--and hopefully Ash, too--heal from more than just the physical hits they've taken over the last few years. "But having someplace that we share might help keep things moving forward."

"I like your place," Ash says, which isn't exactly an answer, let alone the answer Chris is hoping for, but then he continues, "You don't need to get rid of it on my account."

Chris bites back the automatic reply that wants to come flying out and reminds himself that he's listening more now. He's also supposed to be (in his own mind) thinking more about what he's saying, so he chooses his words with at least a little care.

"Is that because you don't want anything more--"

"No, no," Ash says quickly, tipping his head back so Chris can see his face. "Christopher, you opened your home to me. Invited me in. I--enjoyed being there during all the wrap-ups and debriefs. I wish it could have been for longer, but this--" He jerks his head toward the lagoon outside the long, tall windows of the bedroom-- "this is not something I ever thought was going to happen, even before you disappeared off of every tracking system."

He puts his head back down on Chris' shoulder and settles in again. Chris takes the unspoken hint and starts back with the long strokes along his spine.

"If you want someplace new, that's one thing, but don't turn your life upside down because you think I need a grand gesture."

Chris sighs. "I think you defer to me a lot more than you're aware you do."

"I get what I need," Ash answers. "The rest is not that big of a deal."

Chris privately thinks that Ash is still underselling his wants, but then, after getting dumped out in what had turned out to be the far reaches of the Delta Quadrant, he's honed his own needs down extensively, so possibly he's overreacting.

"I appreciate you looking out for me," Ash says, "But I'm already so far off the end of what I thought was possible a few years ago, I'm not sure what's left."

Chris immediately resolves to show him, but manages not to say that out loud. A few years ago, Ash had been barely certain of his own memories, reviled by the two species who'd created him. Chris isn't an expert, but it wouldn't take much in his estimation to better that situation and he knows he can do better than what's going on now.

"Okay," Chris says mildly. "You have the codes and all the emergency numbers from last month; nothing's changed. Move whatever you want into the study in the back. Whenever you're at Command, it's yours, whether I'm there or not."

"That works," Ash answers, and Chris doesn't think he's imagining the satisfaction he's hearing in Ash's voice. "I won't be on-planet for a while, though."

"Lucky you." Chris tries not to groan, but he's not looking forward to any of the follow-up he's got on his schedule before he can warp back out to Starbase 11 and see what's going on with the _Enterprise_. Louvier's there already, so things are well under control, but… it's his ship. Period.

"It's important," Ash says, tapping at Chris' hip to emphasize his words. "You need--"

"I know," Chris sighs. Ash taps his hip again. "No, really, I do know. I swear I'll show up and do the work."

"I'm sure whoever Dr. Boyce has tapped to work with you is--"

"Oh, I know," Chris says, but he still can't quite work up much enthusiasm. "It's not like it's a huge mystery why my brain refuses to stand down when we're at warp--"

"Yeah, I don't think anyone's going to argue that watching your ship bounce around through the nebulae in the Nekrit Expanse before the sabotaged warp core threw you out in the Delta Quadrant isn't enough to make every alarm a captain might have go off, but, you know, it's not an ideal situation."

"No," Chris says, and he knows he's being ridiculous, all doom and gloom, but he's really not looking forward to any of these sessions, if for no reason other than he hates having to talk about himself. "They frown on captains not being able to sleep for any reason, much less through routine parts of their job."

"It's a process," Ash says. "You work at it."

"I'm working," Chris says.

"I can tell," Ash answers, his laugh ghosting over Chris' skin.

"This--" Chris drags his hand a little harder up Ash's back. "--is very helpful. They're going to want me to breathe and be in the moment and all that--which does work, I'm not saying that it won't--so this is practice for that."

Ash nods his head minutely, but doesn't otherwise say anything. Chris keeps his hand moving.

"You think I didn't serve under Katrina Cornwell my entire career and not pick up a few things?" Chris says, falling silent to let that particular wave of grief and sadness roll through him. He knows a lot of people--people he respects a great deal--who deal with the losses by never mentioning them. He'd been that way early on, but then he'd come to realize that, for him, not talking meant truly losing those people for good. Dealing with the reminders had seemed the lesser evil.

"She never backed away," Ash murmurs. "Even when we couldn't tell where Voq ended and I began, which really was outside of everyone's experience."

"No," Chris agrees. "Kat never backed down from anything."

It's two hours to dawn, and then they have another few hours until they have to leave for the spaceport. Chris decides that whether or not he sleeps now, he'll ask Ash to spend those last few hours out on the lagoon and let the wind and water and each others presence soak into them one last time before reality comes for them.

* * *

The trip from Starbase 11 to Starfleet Command was like something out of a delirium. Chris had done some preliminary debriefings from the 'base, enough to realize that Command really didn't want to hear what he had to say. They were in full, sweep-it-under-the-rug mode, pointing out that Section 31 had already presented findings that pointed to sabotage and had pressed the point effectively enough that there had been courts martial convened. 

"I'm really goddamned sorry I missed them," Chris had rasped out to Ash. His voice was gone and his stamina was shot, but he stubbornly refused to allow any of the debriefings to proceed without him. 

"They were, uh, pretty okay," Ash replied in a mild tone that belied everything Chris was hearing about the investigation and the subsequent hearings, but he was transparently underplaying everything about the situation in an effort to keep Chris on as even of a keel as possible. 

"I'm going to need to go in," Chris had said finally. "Be right damned there in front of them and keep pointing out that your previous investigation only highlighted the internal negligence, but didn't really do anything about what actually happened so they don't cut off the money for what needs to happen now."

"I can fund the investigation," Ash said. 

"At the expense of how many other priorities?" Chris demanded. He was running hot, he knew, and it wasn't Ash he was angry with. Ash just happened to be in the blasting radius, but he wasn't taking anything personally. "No, they need to fund this fully and if it takes me yelling every day until they do, then that's what it takes."

Ash had stopped arguing at that point, but then it became clear that was only because he was planning on going with Chris, so Chris wasn't at all sure if he'd actually won that round of discussions. 

Phil had grumbled about Chris wanting to make the trip to Earth, but it was really just _pro forma_ irritation that Chris would be out of Phil’s direct supervision, nothing serious, and even that had disappeared once Ash had made it known he'd be traveling with Chris. By some miracle, Phil didn't actually tell Ash he was in charge of taking care of _Enterprise_'s idiot captain, but it was close.

Una took the news in stride, looking thoughtfully at Ash for a long time before unbending enough to smile at him. "Commander Tyler and his blank badge looming over your shoulder will add a particularly nice touch to your principled rantings, Captain."

The more Chris thought about it, the more terrifying her smile became.

All of that had taken more energy than Chris really had, but then he and Ash had boarded the courier ship that was their fastest option back to Starfleet Command, and Chris spent the first half of the trip jolting awake to make sure the warp signature outside the view screens still looked right and the second half grimly not letting himself even close his eyes. Ash had caught on after not too long, so _he_ wasn't sleeping either and it was just an entire clusterfuck of a situation.

It hadn't gotten any better once they landed. Chris could barely take a step without someone else in the big hangar hurrying up to shake his hand, welcome him back, but that was at least the sincere wishes of people he'd met over the years. Once they'd gotten to the administrative offices, the fuss had increased on a more-or-less straight axis with the insincerity. The only thing that had made it tolerable is that Chris felt far less need to actually connect with the ones who were patently little more than career paper-pushers desperate for something to distract him from their most recent responses to his questions, masterpieces in noncommittal bureaucratic nonsense. 

"You don't actually need to shadow my every step," Chris said after the fifth or sixth deputy assistant in charge of more uselessness had reacted poorly to Ash's presence.

Ash had only shrugged. "It's not all that bad to see who's dodging you the hardest. Or who's really not happy to see me over your shoulder." He smiled. "Even if I'm pretty sure I'm not actually 'looming'."

"Please don't tell Number One that. She already knows she's right; she doesn't need actual data to back it all up." 

Ash snorted. "If you think I'm withholding evidence from her, we're heading to MedBay because you're straight-up delusional."

"Fine," Chris sighed. "It'll make her happy, at least. But for real, you being with me all the time works for now, but sooner or later, someone's going to start wondering exactly why you're right here, step by step with me." Chris thought about it. "Sooner, rather than later, because they'll start saying it even before anyone really thinks it, just to throw out a distraction." He hesitated for a second, but the hallway was clear. "I'm fairly certain I'm not willing to sacrifice the gains we--you and I--have made for the Admiralty's need to pretend my ship was lost on a fluke."

"About that--" Ash started to say.

"We don't have to talk about it," Chris had hurried to say, determined not to make the same mistake twice. "I understand your hesitations and I'm still sorrier than I can say that I let my high horse trample all over your objections."

"Christopher," Ash said and Chris stopped talking. "I was out by the Neutral Zone when you disappeared. I got the alert on gamma shift that a Constitution-class ship had missed their check-in." He half-shrugs. "I was asleep when they called through from the monitoring team—because, yeah, we lost a _ship_—and I had this moment where it was perfectly clear that I was only going to hear about it like this, that no one was going to inform me any other way." 

"No," Chris answered quietly. "We're not on anyone's radar."

"Yeah," Ash said. "I gotta tell you, it sucked. _Sucked._" He turned and propped his shoulders against the wall. "You were gone a long time and I had a lot of time to think about things. Us." 

He looked at Chris steadily, his eyes open, direct, honest; apparently, they were going to have this particular relationship discussion right there in a back hallway of Starfleet Command, because Chris was not interrupting this for anything. 

"I'm still not a huge fan of people knowing our business, but I listened to the part of me that said I didn't deserve you—_us_\--so I better keep it quiet, not tempt fate, and all it got me was a huge waste of time fighting."

"I could have stopped and listened," Chris pointed out. "It was as much me as you."

"That would have helped with the wasted time," Ash said, "but I still would have been on the outside looking in when you dropped out of sight."

"Okay," Chris said, a little more calmly than he actually felt, because he still wasn't sure whether karma was still waiting out there to smack him down again. "So, you’re saying…"

"It still feels selfish, but it's a second chance, and how many times do you get that?" Ash shook his head. "I don't know how you want to do this, but I guess I’m saying that I’m okay with people knowing about us." He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back off his face. It was a solid tell that he was unsure and out of his depth, but he didn't fall silent. "If you’re okay with it, too, still. And I swear I’ll stop saying okay here soon."

"I’m okay with it," Chris said, trying—and mostly failing—to keep an even keel. "More than okay, but only if you're sure."

"Life's too short," Ash answered, resolutely. "I'm not wasting any more of it than I can help."

Chris felt a delighted grin cross his face. "On that topic, I’m inclined to let people just figure it out on their own. No effort on our part, but think of all the _Do you think_s and _Did you see_s chattering out across the comms." Ash couldn’t help the answering smile, but Chris thought he still looked a little uneasy. "Think of it as a public service." 

"I’ll try," Ash said.

"I will need to tell Number One and Phil," Chris said. "I owe them that."

"Can I put in a request to be on a different planet when that happens?" Ash asked, almost lightly. Chris appreciated the attempt at humor, especially since he could see the very real nerves under it. "Especially Commander Robbins."

"I can guarantee she already knows--because she doesn't like when she's not ten steps ahead of me--but she'll be thrilled to know Section 31 holds her in such…"

"High esteem?" Ash suggested. "Or, y'know: abject fear. That works, too."

"Respect," Chris decided. 

"Sure," Ash agreed. "That makes it sound reasonable."

"You know, you _do_ run Starfleet Intelligence—"

"And she's your closest friend," Ash interrupted, "who can not so incidentally give a shovel talk just by arching an eyebrow. So, no, I'm not looking to land on her bad side."

"Fair enough," Chris said. "Enough about my first officer, though." He made his way to a backless bench that had been placed along the wall in some misbegotten attempt to show that people used these hallways as something more than someplace to pass through. After a second, Ash rolled off the wall and came to join him. "We're going to be here for long enough that I'm not looking forward to Fleet temporary housing. It'll be worth the hassle to get my apartment opened up again and you're welcome to join me there. It’s small—" Housing costs being what they were near Starfleet and the Academy, just having a permanent base was a luxury Chris had worked hard to afford. "But that’s generally not an issue if you’re used to shipboard quarters."

"I—"

"Your call," Chris said. "It'll be jumping in the deep end so far as what people might see or think, but it'll also mean some pretty effortless time together." Ash nodded thoughtfully, and easily enough that Chris decided to forge ahead with the thought that had only just started wisping through his brain. "This next part is independent of where you end up staying, but not unrelated, at least not in the publicly-together department."

"Ask me how shocked I am that you're running with this," Ash muttered. 

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Mr. Tyler," Chris said quickly. "But also, nothing here is a binding contract." 

"Noted," Ash said.

"I have, as my first officer has taken to reminding me, a somewhat ridiculous amount of leave," Chris said. "And, judging by the apathetic reaction I'm getting just for stopping by to say hello, I am going to be tearing my hair out once I am finished pushing reality down the throats of beings who would really rather keep their heads so far buried in the sand that all you can see are their asses, so I'm proposing an extended, shared leave to…"

Ash got it on about the second beat of the pause Chris left, huffing out a short, but still sincerely amused laugh as he did. "Oh, yeah, this definitely calls for the full pleasure planet kind of leave."

"Absolutely," Chris said. "Risa, in all its glory."

"Nothing personal, but given our history, I'll believe it when I see it," Ash said. "But hell yeah, I'm in--if, y'know, you can manage to pull it off, Captain."

"Game on, Mr. Tyler," Chris said with more satisfaction than he'd have believed possible. "Game _on_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, close loop!
> 
> One quick, *exceedingly* fluffy epilogue & we’re done, \o/.


	7. Epilogue

"This _really_ isn't Risa," Chris says as he meets up with Ash at the Mojave spaceport.

"I kinda noticed," Ash answers, a little wry, but mostly, Chris thinks, unconcerned. There's no real reason for Chris to have been worried about Ash coming out to the high desert rather than the two of them meeting up on leave someplace exotic. They've had this conversation multiple times, about being together in reality, and it's never an issue for Ash. Chris just hasn't quite gotten past that little voice that says he has to make every second count _now_, before whatever might happen, happens. "I want to see this, Christopher," Ash says, following right behind Chris' thoughts, seeing right into them, "See what you've made of it--that counts for more than Risa's engineered rainbows."

"All right," Chris says. "Let's hope we don't end up with any fire tornados."

The weather has been--unsurprisingly--hot and dry and the winds are stirring up dust and sand everywhere, but Ash settles a pair of classic aviator sunglasses on his face and walks out onto the street with Chris without further comment. 

Chris steers them into an old bar, one that's held together with bailing wire and the fond memories of the generations of pilots who'd spent all their free time parked at the scarred and battered tables and leaning into the long, high bar. The walls are covered with pictures of pilots and engineers, some famous, but most not. If you know the history of flight, though, back to the first birds that went supersonic, you can trace its people back two hundred or more years, one faded print at a time. The beer is ice cold and the kitchen churns out food that's an inspired hybrid of a half-dozen cultures, but mostly people still go there because that's where they've always gone.

"I figured we should probably fuel up before we head out into the desert," Chris says.

Ash fixes him with a long, thoughtful look. "I thought you said the kitchen was finished."

"Technically, yes?" Chris answers. "But there's still no replicator and you probably don't want to eat what I produce when I'm on my own."

"Seriously?" Ash arches a sardonic eyebrow. "What have you been feeding yourself while you've been down here?"

"Pike!" Lena yells from the kitchen with perfect timing. "You want the usual?"

"Times two," Chris calls back, aiming what he sincerely hopes is one of his more charming smiles at Ash. 

"Still unbelievable," Ash laughs. "This is fine, but we're stopping somewhere to get food for later, because I'm not planning on coming back into town for breakfast."

"I can manage toast," Chris warns. "Most of the time. I hope you've got hidden talents."

"I've got--memories," Ash says thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure they're real, because I can't see L'Rell having gone to the trouble of figuring them out. And Voq sure as hell wouldn't have wasted his time on anything so mundane as eggs." He looks at Chris and shrugs. "So, they're probably Ash Tyler's."

"Works for me," Chris says, because there is no way in seven hells he's going to be anything but accepting of Ash dealing with his impossibilities, not when Ash is never not there when Chris deals with his.

Lena starts sending plates out at that point, and then comes out to survey her domain and see who Chris, who is always in her place, but never there with anyone, has brought in for late lunch/early dinner/whatever this meal might be. Ash is easy and relaxed, and when he goes to look at the wall full of long-dead pilots, she turns around to Chris with a look that says, _Goddamn, Pike, that's *nice*_, to which Chris can only smirk in agreement.

* * *

"I'm, uh, stacking the odds here," Chris says as he turns the old, battered truck off the last paved road and onto the dirt track that leads up to the house. The sun is sinking fast, but he thinks they'll have time to get to the place he has in mind before it's totally set. Ash, lounging in the passenger seat, arches a tolerantly amused eyebrow at Chris before he looks pointedly out at the rutted track they're driving on.

"If this is stacking the odds, I'm not sure what I'd think about a fair shake," he says.

"Not this," Chris answers, wincing as he manages to hit the last of the washed out section of the road and only barely keeps from fishtailing in the loose gravel. He finally, mercifully brings the truck to a stop and grabs the flashlight from the glove box. "C'mon," he says. "We're cutting it close."

He's not looking, but he's fairly sure Ash is rolling his eyes as he follows, but Chris just needs his physical presence at the moment. He's counting on the natural world to bring the rest of the doubts under control. There's an old path through the grove of scrubby Joshua trees; it winds around the trunks and climbs up the last little hill until the trees open into a grove that looks west toward the mountains. 

The sun is just touching the tops of the highest peaks and sinking fast, and Chris has managed to time it all almost perfectly. Their shadows lengthen behind them as the sun drops to where it's just touching the horizon and the sky glows with the reds and oranges of the last of the sunlight scattering through the atmosphere. They've lucked out with a plume of cirrus clouds, high and wispy, that catch the light and reflect the riot of colors as the sky darkens to indigo in long, irregular stripes peaking through from behind them.

"Okay," Ash murmurs. "I get it now."

"The house looks west, too," Chris says. "But it's better out here."

Ash hasn't been planetside in nearly a year; Chris' satisfaction in sharing an Earth sunset—and a spectacular one, seen from the land he's building back up—with him goes bone-deep. They stay out until it's fully dark, and then use the flashlight pick their way carefully back through the trees and up to the house.

"It's still a work in progress," Chris warns. It has good bones—Chris is mostly just tearing out all the misguided attempts at 'modernizing' previous owners had inflicted on what had started as a small ranch house from the pre-warp era, when Mojave was rural and agrarian. He'd bought the place because it had stables and fencing to let the soon-to-be-arriving horses run; the house had been livable, but nothing to be excited about. He’s been working hard to change that, but it’s slow going. 

"I didn't dream the part where you said you'd gotten the bed delivered, right?"

"No dream," Chris answers, thinking of the oversized mattress, ridiculously huge for people used to the tight quarters of starships.

"Bath—with shower—and kitchen, yeah?"

"Yep."

"I'm guessing we'll manage, then."

Chris doesn't answer, just lets Ash back him into the wall next to the door and slides his hands into thick, dark hair. Some days, meeting up is still frenetic, explosive, but this night is looking to be one of the times that starts slowly and somehow still ends up almost impossible to believe. 

Ash kisses Chris easy and lazy, taking his time and making sure not to miss anything. Chris lets him set the pace, happy enough to relax and let himself be pulled along in his wake. At some point, he finds enough oxygen to communicate that they should be able to see the Milky Way rise and Ash stops long enough for Chris to pull out a couple of blankets to wrap up against the sudden cold of the desert night. 

There's a tiny stone patio that's also been finished and Chris is pleased to have gotten a bench sturdy enough to take both their weight out there. The sky does stay clear and dark enough that they can see the galaxy where they spend so much of their time rise with the spin of the planet; they stay out kissing under it until they're halfway to frozen before Chris points out there is a bed piled with old-fashioned down comforters waiting for them. They even manage to stumble into the bedroom without turning on a light and breaking the mood.

Getting clothes and boots off with hands that are stiff and cold takes forever, but at least by the time they're wrapped up under the comforters, they've started to thaw out, and then their combined, trapped body heat warms them to where nobody has to flinch away from freezing hands. Once they get to that point, it feels like nothing but a few seconds before Ash is under Chris, arching up into him and gasping between kisses for Chris to fuck him, _now, please, Christopher, now_, and they tip over into the part that Chris sometimes can't quite believe is a real and solid part of his life. 

Ash knows that still happens sometimes and doesn't let it go far, though, wrapping his legs around Chris' waist and demanding all of Chris' attention, mirroring back everything Chris gives him until they both can only barely remember how to breathe.

* * *

Chris crashes hard and sleeps well past sunrise. When he finally rolls over and comes awake for good, Ash is nowhere to be seen, the other half of the bed cool and empty, but he vaguely remembers a kiss being pressed to the back of his shoulder and Ash's voice telling him to sleep himself out. There are good smells flooding his little crazy-quilt of a house: coffee and fresh bread, underlaid with warm, rich spices that have been simmering for more than a little while.

By the time Chris manages to find a pair of track pants and a t-shirt and get himself into the kitchen, he's not sure whether he's more hungry or in desperate need of caffeine. Either way, he's brought up short by the sight of Ash moving around the kitchen like it's home, thin cotton sleep pants riding low on his hips and one of Chris' old, faded Academy t-shirts stretched tight across his shoulders. In the bright, sharp sunlight of the desert morning, Chris can see the first few threads of silvery gray in Ash's dark hair and beard, but they only serve to highlight the strength and energy that fairly radiates from the rest of him.

To that point, Ash's filled a mug with coffee and is holding it out to Chris before Chris has even gotten himself out of where he's mooning about his boyfriend. Since the coffee also comes with a slow, deliberate kiss, Chris decides he can ignore his own less than enthusiastic approach to the morning and just enjoys getting to make out almost before he's even coherent.

When Ash lets him go (with a well-deserved and extremely self-satisfied smirk), Chris congratulates himself on getting to one of the chairs without falling over, and celebrates with a few prudent drinks of the mug of coffee he's still clutching in one hand. 

"So," Chris finally manages to say, "you look as though you've had a very productive morning." 

Ash is busy cracking eggs into a wide, flat pan that Chris is fairly certain had not been a part of his kitchen prior to Ash's arrival. He's still starving, though, so he's just going to keep his mouth shut and not engage in anything that might distract Ash from finishing whatever it is he's making.

"It's pretty private out here, so I got a few forms in this morning," Ash is saying as he slides the pan into the oven. "Outside. It was good. Sunrise was pretty nice, too.

"_Mok'bara_?" Chris asks, ignoring the part about the sun. He's on leave; sunrise is not a thing that goes with that in his brain.

"Yeah," Ash says, sliding into the chair across from Chris and stealing his coffee. "Clears my head, but it tends to freak people out if they see me."

Chris grunts in irritation, but there's not much he can say. People are still touchy about Klingon anything, but he'd have liked to have thought something with as much of a meditative aspect as _mok'bara_ might have skipped over some of that knee-jerk reaction.

Ash shrugs. "_Tai chi chuan_ is close; I usually make do with that, but I dunno, the Voq corner of my brain really takes in the _mok'bara_."

"Feel free to work through as much of it as you want," Chris tells him, stealing his coffee back. Ash grins, but then a timer goes off and he gets back up to pull the pan out of the oven, dropping it on the table between their two places. He's found the plates and forks, too--they're already stacked neatly to the side--but the rich, spicy smell from the pan, and the sight of the baked eggs nestled into the tomatoes and peppers and garlic, is enough that Chris skips the plates and starts eating straight from the pan.

"Not exactly the scrambled eggs I was expecting," Chris mumbles through the first mouthful. "Or the disaster I'd have probably produced."

"Shakshouka," Ash says, grinning at Chris' curses from burning his mouth on the near-boiling tomatoes--not that it does much to slow him down. Ash reaches back to break off a piece of a long, crusty baguette and hand it to Chris just in time for the heat of the peppers to hit. 

"Okay," Chris finally manages to gasp. "You're definitely in charge of food."

"Aye, Captain," Ash snarks, but he's still smiling. Chris isn't naming anything that he's seeing in Ash's eyes, but he knows it's the same way he's looking at Ash. 

He can’t know the future, but he is amazed and grateful and at peace with the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thank you* for reading along with this latest rare pair to hijack my brain!
> 
> Also, there used to be this dive bar near Edwards AFB out in the high desert of California -- maybe it's still there? one can hope -- where the pilots all ended up (think _The Right Stuff_ not _Top Gun_) and that's Lena's place. (Hey, it's canon now: Pike was a test pilot. No wonder I fell hard, even if my flyboys were Navy (and I managed to tear myself away to a more stable life) ♥ )

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, still working my way through that reborn Pike love (I mean, it never really went anywhere, but Discovery sure did throw gasoline on those banked embers.)
> 
> And yow, did this turn out to be longer than I expected when I first started randomly writing how they finally ended up on leave on Risa. Maybe I can reclaim my brain now?
> 
> I'm [](http://topaz119.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**topaz119**](http://topaz119.dreamwidth.org/) (dreamwidth) // [](http://topaz119.tumblr.com)[](http://topaz119.tumblr.com)**topaz119** (tumblr) if you want to come say hi!


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